


Time Heals (If You Spin It Right)

by cpt_winniethepooh



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Ableism, Aftermath of Torture, Agent Carter (TV) Compliant, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Avengers: Endgame Fix-It, BAMF Peggy Carter, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Crying, Everybody Lives, F/M, Fix-It, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, POV Peggy Carter, Period Typical Attitudes, Period Typical Bigotry, Period-Typical Homophobia, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Steve Rogers Angst, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, agent carter S1 compliant, dark-ish steve rogers, mild endgame spoilers but nothing specific, not agent carter s2 compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:02:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 40,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23188933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cpt_winniethepooh/pseuds/cpt_winniethepooh
Summary: It's not every day that Peggy's life gets strange even by her own standards, but when she is told that there's a man at SSR HQ who looks and behaves kind of like Captain America, life getsstrange. Because this man, if it indeed is Steve, has seen things she's afraid to imagine and was transformed in the process into something darker and more dangerous than the man she remembers.But one thing never changed about him: his loyalty and devotion to Sergeant Barnes.(Or the one where Steve goes back in time to save Bucky, Peggy joins him, recruits the Howlies and founds SHIELD, and maybe helps mend a broken relationship between broken people as well.)
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Peggy Carter/Daniel Sousa
Comments: 110
Kudos: 403





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hope this helps if you, like me, are suffering the effects of a pandemic :)

“He showed up in the middle of the road Downtown,” Thompson said, his tie flapping as they made their way down the corridor towards the interrogation rooms.

“What do you mean 'he showed up'?” Peggy sidestepped another agent to be able to keep up with Thompson. Behind them, Daniel kept their pace silently.

“Two cars crashed when they swerved to avoid him,” Thompson replied, just low enough so it would be heard over the clicking of her heels. “The arriving police thought he was a madman, what with the outfit and shield, but he snapped a baton into two and requested the SSR, and, well...”

“Average lunatics aren't supposed to know about us,” she finished.

“Exactly. He looks... I couldn't tell if he's the real deal. Take a peek.”

Thompson opened a door and Peggy walked, the feeling in her stomach akin to having to walk up to the gallows.

There he sat, behind the smoked glass, and Peggy's heartbeat drummed in her ears as she walked to be parallel to him.

She understood what Thompson meant when he couldn't describe him.

Steve, if indeed it was him, looked like a twisted, comically altered version of Captain America. His hair was longer, but the same sun–kissed blond alright. He had a beard, and that, that was alarming – beards don't grow out overnight. And his clothes... The silver star was missing from his chest, and the red stripes looked muddied. The materials, too... 

Peggy had dreamt, had nightmares about seeing Steve again. In her dreams he was either wearing his military uniform when they danced, or the Captain America outfit as he was found frozen beneath the ice. Never anything like this. Never a beard. Never that… inscrutable look in his eyes.

“You say he wanted to come here?” Daniel asked in a carefully neutral tone behind her.

“He only mentioned us when the police wanted to arrest him. He has no papers.”

“But he cooperated?”

Thompson nodded.

“That's something.”

“What do you think, Marge? Real deal?”

“I think that if this is indeed the real Captain Rogers, then he can hear us loud and clear,” and she’d barely began talking when Rogers's – or the impostor's – head snapped up.

She couldn't read his eyes. She couldn't read his face. It had never been easy, Steve was always guarded to his bones, but this... his look had an edge that had her hair stand up on her neck. But she knew what she had to do, and she turned to Thompson.

“Let me question him.”

“It could be dangerous,” Thompson said, and they both knew he was more afraid of his position – or this Cap turning out to be fake – than for her safety.

“I can handle myself.”

Thompson grabbed her arm when she moved past him. “He could be like Dooley,” he said in a low voice, and maybe he _was_ worried for her after all. “Fooled by Fennhoff.”

“Sooner or later we’ll need to talk to him,” she stared at his arm until he dropped his hand. “And you need an expert. I _am_ an expert.”

Daniel sucked in a breath but didn't interfere and for that, she loved him a lot.

Thompson considered her for a moment. “Be careful.”

“I always am,” she said, and then turned back from the corridor for one last sentence before entering the lion's den. “Besides, beating him to a pulp wouldn’t work.”

Thompson rolled his eyes.

His breath hitched when she stepped into the room, and his shoulders hunched, as if he was visibly bracing himself –– he had always done that.

No. The real Steve had –– this was not that Steve. Nothing was proven.

But God, his eyes––

No matter how much she kept repeating it to herself that she wasn't going to be affected, his eyes shook her to the core.

The shape and the shade were the same, but the steel, the _anguish_ behind them, that was something she had only seen once, after Barnes's death.

She sat down and hoped that whatever her face showed, it wasn't weakness. Not in front of a probable enemy.

Not in front of Steve, if it was really him.

They looked at each other for a moment, for just a moment, and then his façade crumbled. His face transformed in a way she didn't think was possible: raw hope and pain filled his features, and he leaned forward, one arm extending –– his restraints rattled on the table.

He hadn't tried to stand up when she entered the room, and this, now, had her jerking back instinctively.

His face was had not been unlike a kicked, starving puppy, then –– she had heard the Howlies, most specifically Barnes, refer to him as such.

No. This may not have been _that_ Steve.

He sat back, pulled his hands as close to himself as possible, assuming a small, unthreatening pose.

She had never been threatened by Steve. His size, his demeanor, was never something he used against anybody that wasn't HYDRA.

"Sorry I'm late," he said in a small voice. "My flight got into some trouble."

A layer of painful doubt fell from her heart at that, but she masked it as well as possible.

"Yes, I can imagine how a deep dive into the freezing ocean might be a bit of a delay," she said icily.

His smile fell.

 _Good_.

"Peggy––"

"How did you find out about the SSR?" she cut in.

"You took me there, the very first time," he said swiftly. "After I finished basic and was scheduled for the procedure."

She could only imagine what Thompson would do with that information –– or Daniel.

His eyes shifted. "I'm sorry, I didn't–– I wasn't supposed to say that here, was I."

Something must've shown on her face. She needed to be better–– she needed to ignore––

"At this moment, you aren't supposed to know about the SSR," she said. "Because the man I took there died when his place crashed into the Atlantic Ocean. So please explain to me who you are and how did you find out about us, so we could deal with the impersonation and the security breach appropriately."

"I am Steven Grant Rogers," he said. "I got out of the ice. I was born in 1919––"

"How did you get out of the ice?" she cut in.

"It's a long story."

"I have time."

"I'm not really sure I want to share it with your men," he said, nicking towards the glass.

"They are not my men," she said, and her voice would've cut glass.

He blushed furiously. "I didn't mean–– I'm sorry, I..."

Well, her Steve had always been horrible about putting his feet in his mouth too.

"Let me reiterate," she said. "You show up in the middle of the city, cause a crash, then, when the police ask you for some ID, you tell them about the SSR –– but when you're actually in here, you refuse to cooperate. Please explain the logic behind that, because I really have trouble seeing it."

He was still blushing; score for her. "I didn't mean to cause that crash," he said. "And I didn't know what else to tell the police. It wasn't a strategically planned decision."

She heard the _I fucked up_ loud and clear, which Steve had never been shy of acknowledging in his own subtle way.

"I can prove my identity," Steve said. "My shield, my... strength, and Howard Stark could all help with that."

The problem was, now she was starting to believe it was him–– but there was still too much of a mystery around him. Not to mention the possibility of someone like Fennhoff taking advantage of the situation.

"Say you can prove you are Steve Rogers," she said. "Then what? We just let you out? Why do all this, go through the trouble of coming here only to then leave? How did you get out of the ice?"

"I told you, I can't–– I can't explain any of that when I know you and I won't be the only ones listening," Steve said, shifting in his chair, his restraints rattling again –– he never had been patient.

"Then we’re at a standstill, I'm afraid," she leaned back. "Explain the clothes, at least. Explain the _beard_."

His face hardened again. He never had anything resembling a poker face –– except for when he was cheating at actual poker. And then he forcefully shifted his features to ask, "So you believe me?"

"Your personal details could be obtained from the files, even if they’re top secret," she said. She knew –– she had seen it firsthand. "But you’re still remarkably bad at talking to people."

Something terribly sad passed behind his eyes, but he forced a small smile onto his face. "You are not the first to tell me that."

She was certain he was talking about Sergeant Barnes, but she decided against mentioning him. "I still don't have any idea what to do with you," she said, "if you refuse to cooperate with an SSR agent."

"Not the first time I'm refusing to abide the rules," he pointed out, rightfully so, then he raised an eyebrow at the glass –– no doubt someone made a fuss on the other side.

"You aren’t above them, you know."

"I do," he said, with such _honesty_ –– "But some rules are not ready to protect the world from what is out there. That's why I did what I did –– why you do what you do."

She had heard a variation of this speech from criminals, and some even from her own coworkers. When Steve said it, however, she knew what he meant, how he meant it – maybe because deep down, she felt the same way about rules and laws. Not because she was above them, or she was entitled for more, but because flawed men created flawed laws.

"And what do you think is out there?" she asked.

His face remained impassive; not what she expected. Then he sighed. "I had thought there was nothing worse than Nazis –– than HYDRA. But there are worse threats... there are many things worse than death."

She thought about Chief Dooley, about what Fennhoff was capable of, and agreed wholeheartedly.

"What changed your mind?" she asked.

If the beard was any indication, he had spent a considerable amount of time out of the ice –– and a considerable amount of time was enough for someone to turn his mind against himself.

"If I told you, I'm not sure we'd be safe from other people changing their minds," he said, again, nodding at the glass.

Peggy sat up even straighter. "What do you mean?"

He couldn't mean–– _surely_ he couldn't mean––

His first answer was a slight tilt of his head, then he spoke. "Some people... some people may change their minds more swiftly and surprisingly than others," he said, with a lot of hesitation in his voice. As if there was more he wasn't telling.

She had a pretty good idea what that was about.

"Are you talking about the methods of doctor Fennhoff?" she asked, leaning forward.

"I don't know who’s that," Steve said, and for a moment she exhaled in relief. "But if they are anything like Zola––"

Her stomach clenched. "Zola?" She asked.

"He can erase your personality," he said, and gone was the nonchalant, calm exterior. His eyes hardened to a degree she had never seen in him before, not even after Barnes's death. "Make you do things you would never do, in your right mind."

He spoke as if speaking from experience.

"Fennhoff and Ovechkin are the same," she said. "But I didn't know Zola..."

"Nor did I, during the war," he said.

They stared at each other.

"You know why I can't tell you anything here, where anybody on the other side of the glass could be under the influence of those men," he said.

"And you know why I can't trust you, for fear of the same," she fired back. "Unless you are trying to convince me that those techniques don't work on the superserum?"

Anger flashed in his eyes, then it was gone. "It does work," he said icily. "Short–term, at least."

She didn't ask how he knew. She knew he wouldn't tell her.

It was surprising enough by itself that he knew about any of this –– all of this.

She couldn't read his eyes. Not anymore.

But it was Steve –– the only question, or at least, the main question remained if it was only Steve, or Steve with a passenger on his back.

"I need to talk to my supervisors," she said, and his eyes widened in surprise. "Don't break anything."

She walked towards the Chief's office, and Thompson and Daniel shot out of the interview room to follow. She gestured at them not to speak, but they knew it by themselves –– she wasn't surprised to see a flock of agents scattering away, pretending they hadn't been listening in.

Only when the door closed behind them did Peggy exhale.

"You think it's him?" Thompson asked.

"I do," she nodded. "But I’m not sure about the possibility of mind interference."

Daniel was silent.

"How can you be sure about his identity?" Thompson pressed. "He didn't say anything that someone couldn't have dug up."

"He is Steve Rogers, also known as Captain America," Peggy said patiently. "The movie reels, the posters, they didn't show who he was –– he was hotheaded, polite, always put his feet in his mouth."

She took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly.

"I suppose I should say he is. Because that man inside, that is the same Steve Rogers –– I can't explain the beard, or the how or the why of him being here, or how he knew about the mind control," she added, when Thompson looked about to drill her further.

"We need to be certain," Thompson still said.

"I am certain," she said.

"If Peggy believes it's him, then it's him," Daniel spoke up, but when she glanced at him, he avoided her eyes.

"It's not that I don't trust Carter," Thompson raised his voice. "But _my_ superiors will want more than hearsay."

He was only covering his back, she knew, but that didn't make things any easier.

"You can test his strength –– he could break out of those restraints, and the room, if he wanted to. His shield is also one of a kind, but I'm afraid we'll need Howard Stark if we want more than to fire at it and check that it doesn't leave a dent."

"Stark is unreachable," Thompson said. "What do you mean shooting at his shield?"

"Bullets won't leave dents on vibranium," she said, thinking back at the first time she tested it herself. "Not even a tank's missiles would, although it's probably best not to test that."

They sent the shield down to the labs to do the appropriate tests anyway. Someone was put on duty to try to get to Stark, and Thompson looked ready to burst –– he was dealing with his biggest breakthrough, she knew.

"There is no sense in keeping him detained," she said.

"Are you suggesting I let probably the real, possibly a fake Captain America, out to the street?"

"I'm suggesting we can't keep him in forever," she said.

"You said yourself, we don't know whose influence he may be under."

"If we go with that reasoning, nobody should ever be let out," she pointed out. "Do you want to arrest the entire city?"

"This isn't just _anybody_ , Marge; this is Cap."

He ran his hands through his hair in frustration. She understood the feeling.

"Exactly. Keeping Captain America detained would be a far worse headline than keeping any other local citizen detained," she said.

Dusk was falling outside, and she wanted to talk to Steve in private, where he would tell her... whatever he needed to tell her.

Thompson frowned at her. "Low blow."

"I don't know what else to tell you," she shrugged. But Thompson just kept on frowning, and Peggy got tired of the staring match.

"You could make him talk," he said when she turned around, and she raised an eyebrow.

"Nobody could make him talk," she fired back. "He is Captain America."

Thompson decided to try it anyway. After Peggy gave him the no loud and clear, that is, that she wasn't going to try again.

He looked especially frustrated with this turn of events; obviously he wasn't used to not only not getting his way but being faced with people he couldn't successfully use violence on.

It probably didn't help that she reminded him again that Steve could break out anytime he liked, and he was only here because he was cooperating –– being _nice_.

She had to stifle a snort at the thought, though. Steve Rogers playing nice. If any of the Howlies had been there...

So, in the end, Thompson went in to talk to Steve and sent Peggy three floors down to prevent ‘contamination’. Peggy also just rolled her eyes at that, although Steve –– the old Steve –– could get flustered easily if he knew she was listening from the other side of the glass, so there was that.

She searched for Daniel, but he was in the darkroom, dealing with some photos, and so she just sat down for a moment to collect herself.

Steve Rogers. Back from the dead.

With no explanation, a beard, and having witnessed something that made his already steely eyes cold and dark.

She feared what that something was. She had thought the thing that would most affect Steve, ever, was Barnes's death.

She had missed him, and in fact she was still missing him, mainly because this man didn't feel like the Steve he had known.

She had loved him, and a part of her loved him still and will always do –– but she had also mourned him, buried the last of him (or so she's thought), and now she was engaged to someone else.

Her heart longed to hug Daniel more than Steve, which was all she needed to know.

She stood up, lighter on her feet now that she figured where she stood. Hurting Daniel was the last thing she wanted to do –– thought now Steve may be hurt, she doubted he would feel the blow as much as he would've had before.

Before whatever it was that happened to him.

Daniel was still absent, but Thompson, at least, finished with Steve. Possibly literally, based on how angrily he was redoing his cufflinks.

"I take it he didn't tell you anything, either?" she asked.

The look he gave her should've set her on fire, really. "How was he even _admitted_ to the army with that attitude?"

She couldn't help the chuckle. "He was 4F'd about 3 times before Erskine set his mind on him," she said, and guiltily reveled in the way his eyes boggled out of his head. He didn't say he didn't understand why, or how; he didn't need to.

"And he was made _captain_ ," he fumed on instead.

She decided against telling him that officiating Steve as a captain was nothing more than formality; it would've looked really bad on their hands if their newest propaganda figure got arrested for impersonating an officer.

"He was –– is a very good leader, an excellent tactician and has superhuman abilities."

"And a mouth that doesn't match," Thompson harrumphed.

She had guessed they wouldn't get on. Thompson was everything Steve wasn't: cocky, arrogant, and disappointing. A bully, and Steve had never tolerated bullies.

"If it helps, he was mostly given his own unit with independence was to place him _out_ of the chain of command. He never really got the hang of following orders."

Thompson rubbed his temple. "I can understand that. But I... the coverage was a pack of lies," he finished lamely.

"You know the radio show, right?" she asked, and when he nodded, she said, "Think of the real Cap as the exact opposite of the one everybody portrays him as."

"You really could've told me that before I went in," he said exasperatedly.

"You didn't ask," she smiled sweetly.

In the end, they did let Steve out.

Thompson said he'd put him in a special SSR flat under observation, and that he wasn't to talk to anyone else. Thompson was going to notify his supervisors for further instructions, but he said this while also clearly planning the morning news headlines in his head, so Peggy left him to it.

She tried to talk to Daniel again, but in the cheering and commotion after Thompson's announcement she couldn't get to him before Daniel packed his things and left. He nodded at Peggy (looking at her directly for the first time since Steve had been found) to mouth ‘talk later’ too.

Peggy's heart ached; she needed to tell him that this changed nothing.

Except she couldn't tell him that. This may have changed everything –– she didn't know what happened to Steve, and what that meant for the world.

But this didn't change her mind, or her heart, on where she stood with him.

Her colleagues gathered around excitedly and despite Thompson's efforts, clasped Steve on the back and congratulated him and thanked him. She could see from across the room how it strained Steve, how he clenched his jaw and balled his fists. He didn't smile, didn't utilize anything from the USO tour, just used his authority to get out as soon as possible.

But he did meet her eyes, just like Daniel, and she knew what she had to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started writing this, no joke, two or three years ago? Definitely before Infinity War, and possibly before I even finished S1 of Agent Carter. Then IW and Endgame happened and I was like, hey, this could be a fix-it! So I waited another few months/years just to be safe, and here we are! (I'm bad at finishing stuff, don't @ me.)
> 
> My writing style's changed a lot since then so it wasn't easy to rework everything, not to mention the fact that I blissfully erased S2 of AC from my mind and I still haven't actually seen the last of the Avengers movies, so, you know. Suspension of disbelief please?
> 
> Kudos and comments give me life! <3


	2. Chapter 2

She battled with herself at the Griffith again. It was, to put it bluntly, Daniel's feelings versus the possibility of something that jeopardized the world, and no matter what she would've preferred, she knew which one she had to choose.

Guilt washed over her again while she changed into pants that granted more mobility. She really wanted to see Steve, to talk to him, to find out... but her heart was still breaking over Daniel.

It took some maneuvering to retrieve the relevant information about Steve's location, but she wasn't a secret agent for nothing. The clock almost struck midnight when she sneaked into the heavily supervised building, mindful to avoid watchful eyes.

She lockpicked the door, and carefully opened it – only to be met with Steve, his shield raised and at the ready, his sharp eyes following her movements.

She took in the room as he lowered the shield and straightened up. He had clearly been packing, there were clothes and even weapons all over the room, and in the center of the concentric tornado, a bag on the middle of the bed.

The weapons made her more concerned than anything; more than the beard and the eyes that spoke of unspeakable tragedies.

"Steve?"

"It's me, Peggy," he said, and the way he said her name... her breath hitched. The shield dropped to the floor when she took a step closer and practically collapsed into his arms.

He held her tighter than ever before, and if she had had doubts before, those would've been gone by then.

She wasn't ashamed to wipe the tears from her eyes when he let her go.

"How?" She whispered. "How–"

"It's a long–"

"If you say _long story_ , then God help you, I will shoot you again," she warned, and he huffed out a wet laugh at that.

"Would you believe it if I said it was time travel?"

She stared at him, at his apologetic twist of mouth, visible even under the beard.

The beard. The way he looked, as if he had seen things that no human should see.

"Maybe," she allowed. "You're not off the hook yet, though."

"It _is_ a long story," Steve insisted.

"And we don't have time because you're... leaving?"

His face was never easy to read; always closed off, guarded, but now... now it was stone.

"I have to," he said, and somebody else might've said those words in a patronizing manner, but not him, never him. But he _was_ desperate; for why, she couldn't tell.

"Why?" He didn't answer. "Steve, please."

He crumbled. "You have to promise you'll believe me," he whispered.

Peggy noticed he hadn’t said that before his possible time travel-explanation, and her stomach turned heavy.

She would've said 'we'll see' or 'it depends' to anybody else; but not to him, never to him. "Tell me."

"Bucky... Sergeant Barnes is alive. I have to save him."

There wasn't any trace of uncertainty in his voice. Stone, like his face earlier, but his breathing was similar to that of before the serum. Peggy swallowed.

It was impossible. Barnes had died.

Steve had died, too.

"Please, Peggy, trust me. He's... I've got to get him," Steve said, and she looked into his eyes and understood. Whatever Steve knew or thought he knew... nothing would steer him off course.

Because it was Barnes.

The pieces clicked into place, but she soldiered on despite the whirlwind of her emotions.

"And you thought you were going without me? You should know better by now, Captain."

He smiled at her chastising tone, even if weakly, and went along. "Sorry, ma'am."

"Where are we going?"

"Siberia." And the ice returned to his eyes, she was sad to note.

"I can get the Commandos there - what's left of them. They'll help."

Steve nodded. "Don't... tell them about me, yet. If the call is tracked..."

"All right. I'll go and pack – be careful, the flat is being monitored."

He nodded; not surprised, just disappointed. "Thought so. But if you have someone of the SSR, someone you trust... I have a feeling we will need all the help we can get."

More and more things became clear. It was very similar to that of a badly tuned wireless; one caught bits and pieces, and then, at the right frequency, everything made sense retroactively once one figured the missing details from context.

He wanted to get the SSR's help but didn't know who to trust; not with people like Fennhoff around. Not with Barnes at stake.

Her mind whirled – she couldn't take Daniel, and Thompson and Jarvis would have been equally bad decisions for entirely different reasons...

"I'll think about who we could summon," she said, mentally jumping between options and chances.

"And Peggy?' Steve grasped both of her hands suddenly. "Thank you. You don't have to do this."

"Yes, yes I do," she squeezed his hands back. He didn't last a minute the last time around, without Barnes. If whatever he believed wasn't the case, if they didn't find Barnes... She had to be by his side. Not to prevent him from doing anything stupid, she had never been the one capable of that. But he deserved not to be alone. She owed Barnes that, at least.

"I'm sorry," he said, and she understood, and her heart broke for him. She drew him down and kissed his forehead and stroked his cheek, then went to make a phone call.

She had to talk to Daniel.

In person.

It would hurt, but it would be better for him than a call. If he even answered at such a late hour.

She wasn't paying attention to where she was heading, and so it surprised her when strong fingers grabbed her forearm. Nonetheless, she reacted instinctively and put her free palm through where she guessed her attacker's nose would be; she succeeded, and was already lifting a leg towards the crotch area when she was released with a yelp.

"Ouch, Marge, why'd you do that for?!"

"Thompson?" she stepped back to see: but it _was_ Thompson, with a bloody nose to boot. "Hadn't your mother taught you that you shouldn't grab ladies in dark alleys?"

"Ladies shouldn't be in dark alleys," he muttered in a nasal voice. She gave him her own kerchief; even in the dark she could see that his had bled through.

"Why were you following me?"

"I thought you'd visit him. I hoped you wouldn't, it would really break Sousa's heart..."

She didn't give him the satisfaction of a reaction. "Yes, very mature of you to be speculating like that."

"What did he tell you?"

"Why don't you ask him yourself?"

Silence.

"Listen, Carter, this could be a matter of national security."

She had had a very long day. A very, very long day, where her old love showed up at her workplace, freshly back from the dead; she couldn't talk properly with her fiancé; the Soviets were most likely up to something again; _time travel_ might have been involved – though she wasn't sure she was believing that just yet – and the only Howling Commando to die before Steve was also, supposedly, alive and at enemy hands.

She snapped. "Like you care anything about national security; all you care about is your career and how you can use others to move ahead on the ladder. Of course Steve wouldn't talk to you, he saw right through you and he could never stand bullies."

She exhaled deeply, and Thompson looked more shocked at her outburst that at her hitting him.

"I am going to go now, to help a friend," she said, and pulled herself straighter.

After two steps, Thompson called after her.

"I won't be able to protect you if you get Cap killed," he said. She jerked around, blood boiling, but he lifted his free hand in defense. "I know you don't need it. But I could send some guys with you, unofficially."

If Steve hadn't asked – if it hadn't been for _Barnes_ – but it was, and so she nodded.

She took a cab to Daniel's and knocked on the door. She couldn't come up with anything that would make it easy – or even just bearable – during the ride, but she still had to do it.

"Peggy? What's wrong?" he asked the moment he spotted her on the threshold, his night clothes a stark contrast to her pristine dress.

"I'm leaving tomorrow," she said.

Fast. Like ripping off a band-aid.

He let her in without a word.

She knew he was rooming with a night guard so they could be alone. The neighbors still would gossip, probably, but that was the least of her problems.

"You're leaving," he repeated, and limped to put the kettle on.

"Let me," she said – he didn't have time to put his prosthetic on. She ignored his frown and used the kettle as a distraction as she answered, "Yes, to Europe. I don't know how long it will take. It's, um..."

"Captain America?" he asked bitterly, and she realized she had chosen the wrong tactic: not looking into his eyes, not starting with what was important.

"Yes and no," she said, and she sat down to the table, next to him.

Daniel was staring at the kettle.

"Daniel, I... my feelings for you haven't changed."

"How about your feelings for him?" he asked, and when he finally, _finally_ met her eyes, his were shining.

"I loved him, and missed him, and grieved him," she voiced what she had already thought. "And I moved on. I still have a… a certain kind of loyalty to him, but that doesn't change my decision to marry you."

She wished she could make him look less hopeless.

All the men around her looked hopeless all the time; Steve because of Barnes, Thompson because her independence threatened his power, and Daniel...

Daniel's hurt the most.

"How would our marriage look like if you ran off with him as he whistled?"

She jerked when, as if on cue, the kettle also whistled.

"He is my friend," she said, for the third time that night. "I have a duty to him, the same kind of duty that made me help Howard Stark. _And_ I also have a duty to _myself_ , to do what is right – I thought you knew that when you asked me to marry you."

He sagged back and looked away, and she stood to pour the tea and give him a moment.

"I thought it would be easier," he mumbled. "And Cap wasn't in the picture."

She couldn't tell him that even if she had still been in love with Steve, her feelings would've gone unrecruited.

"For me, he always was a part of the picture" she said instead, and placed a cup in front of him. "But I still said 'yes' to you, and I wouldn't have if I wasn't sure in myself. Daniel, I love you – I will come back to you."

He looked up at her, and she did love him; his kind heart, his gentle soul, his strong morals.

"I sometimes think it would be easier if you were less strong-minded," he said. "But then I think I wouldn't love you as much."

She caressed his cheek, now that he finally understood her, and kissed him.

After so much, she couldn’t also face Angie. Instead of waking her up Peggy slid a letter under her door to let her know that she would be out of town on business, and asked her to take care of Peggy’s things in case Miriam decided to throw them out despite Peggy’s (also written) assurances that she’d be back.

Sometimes she found herself on a carousel, destined to be faced with the same issues day after day and unable to end the cycle. But even if she let Daniel and Angie and Miriam and Thompson and everybody down, she had to go with Steve.

Thompson's men weren't working for the SSR, she noted when they met up at the airport the next morning. They looked more ready to fight in a box ring than to sit in an office and type up reports, which, to be fair, was a good thing. Manpower was much more needed than some cocky fella trying to pull authority over Steve. As it was, these three simply did what Steve told them, and didn't even comment on Peggy's pants, or the size of her bag (full of probably useful gadgets). She mentally thanked Thompson for making the chain of command clear.

She spent was less time analyzing them than Steve's getup: she had no idea where he got the black gear, and didn't ask, but it looked menacing on him. He had shaved the beard, which shocked her for a different reason than what she'd anticipated: instead of looking like himself from before the plane, he looked even more jarringly alien. There may not have been new crinkles around his eyes, but he still appeared years older than what should've been his actual age.

She didn't question that, either, even though she wanted to. The small cabin of a plane with a bunch of strangers was not the ideal place for such a talk.

"We're meeting the Commandos in Poland," she said. "I couldn't tell them where we're going from there."

He nodded. "I know – I will lead you."

Steve had led the Howlies, and eventually got used to people actually following his orders, he was never comfortable acknowledging it. But instead of being shocked at the ease with which he assumed control, she only filed that away mentally with all the other off things about Steve.

The last time she had flown to Europe, it was also to meet the Commandos.

She had been a different person then. Still freshly grieving Steve, anticipating the reunion with her old comrades in front of her new colleagues – not knowing about Dottie, about Fennhoff.

She would've had given anything to get Steve back.

Not this Steve, though.

This Steve was just as different from his old self as maybe Peggy was. Those were versions of them had died in the war before they had the chance to see the horrors that men were capable of.

Peggy was afraid to find out what other horrors Steve had seen that made him like this.

He didn't speak in the plane, not even to Peggy, other than to tell them that they should rest while they could. He clenched his jaw and sat with his back straight, and he didn't even try to shut his eyes, even while the other three dozed off midway.

Maybe whatever horrors he'd seen, they were now getting closer to it – that would certainly explain his behavior.

She braced herself to bear whatever may come, and even help him through it, should he need it.

He wouldn't be able to survive the loss of Barnes once more. She was more certain of that than her own name.

And even if they found him... she didn't know how much of him they would find. She had seen prisoners of war, which she assumed Barnes also became. But even if Barnes had dealt with his imprisonment under Zola relatively well, had coped well, there was nothing to suggest that the added _years_ wouldn't impact him severely.

They camped from the airport in Poland to East, just like last time, but this time it was Steve leading her, not Thompson. He didn't use maps or guides, just seemingly went as if he had walked this path before, and Peggy felt eerily chill, like following a fairy light through the swamp.

She hoped she wouldn't sink and drown.

It took them three days to meet with the remaining Howlies. Dum-Dum had apparently herded the gang together, even Gabe and Falsworth from France.

The reunion was painful.

The Commandos had nearly the same reaction: shock, disbelief, then raw hope and joy when Peggy confirmed that indeed, it was the real Steve Rogers.

It just wasn't _their_ Steve Rogers anymore.

He didn't smile bashfully, didn't blush at the praise – but he did let them hug and clap him on the back. He offered no explanation, wasted no time on pleasantries, just asked if everybody was ready for a forced march to North, and then they were off.

Every single Howlie looked at Peggy in absolute confusion, and only at her slight nod did they fall into a line to walk after Steve.

Steve pretended not to notice.

If she had had hoped to see more of the old Steve with the Commandos, she would’ve been tremendously disappointed. Steve, if anything, became even more guarded despite the fact that this was his team and these were his men - well, other than Thompson's three. Maybe it was the reminder of what he’d lost; she couldn’t say. The contrast was especially jarring after his moment of vulnerability a few nights before, and Peggy had no idea what would happen to him if they didn’t recover Barnes.

The Howlies didn’t dare question him after the first few brisk remarks. They accepted that they were going into battle for Cap again, but their old uniforms didn't fit them anymore, and they questioned Peggy the first chance they got. Steve went up a hill to check if they had a better chance of crossing a half-frozen river there, and Thompson's three hang back, forming their own small inner unit.

"How do we know he isn't controlled by Fennhoff?" Dum-Dum asked straight-out.

"We don't," she said. "But if anybody could have that effect on him, it's Barnes."

"He could be leading us into a trap without us knowing," Jones reasoned.

"And yet you are following him just as readily as before," she retorted.

That, nobody could contest. They agreed to keep an eye out for traps, then got ready when Steve returned.

Each day after that offered a similar routine. Other than a few stolen minutes here and there, they wouldn’t stop until darkness fell. Then they set up camp quickly, and Steve offered to take the first watch.

She wasn't unused to the cold weather, the harsh ground, the breathing of her unit. Yet she never expected to be this cold, especially not in Steve's presence.

It only got worse as they got closer to the North, as they had to trek through the freshly fallen snow and hunt their food – they avoided towns to avoid attention. Steve got more distant, yet more restless, and a cold fire lit up his eyes.

He clearly knew where he was going. There wasn't a single instance of hesitation about their direction; Steve only stopped to make sure that the road under their feet was safe to travel, and he maneuvered between towns and farms with expertise.

They ventured deep into the Siberian wastelands, where not even deer seemed to travel. Yet Steve held his gaze at the horizon, as if seeing a star that shone only for his eyes, and led them on.

One night, he announced that they had arrived.

They could see nothing in the dim lights, nothing other than the faint outline of trees in the fog.

"We scout the base tomorrow, and when an opportunity presents itself, we attack," Steve said, his fists in a ball.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You have no idea how hard it was to make something readable out of my years' old draft XD But I hope you like it! And thank you, as always, for the comments and kudos! They brighten my day in the darkest of times :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the feedback! It makes my heart melt to know so many of you are interested in this story <3

A base was indeed hidden among the trees in a small valley between the surrounding mountains. It only became visible once they climbed the ridge, just like Steve had said. Its thick walls and small windows must have been modelled after a medieval castle but on a smaller scale; unfriendly and uninviting in the middle of the cold, unforgiving wilderness.

Nobody would see it from afar thanks to the mountains, and nobody would have reason to fly over it. The only way anybody could discover the place was on foot, deliberately, knowing the way. It was the perfect hiding spot.

"Now what?" Gabe asked. 

Steve looked at the base for one long moment before answering.

"We attack. Kill whoever's shooting you, but make sure–" he took a deep breath. "Make sure it's not Sergeant Barnes."

"What?!" Dum Dum exclaimed.

"He's been in there for years," Steve said.

If he thought that was an adequate explanation, he was wrong.

"He'd never turn against his country," Peggy said.

Steve looked at her for a moment.

"I know. But I also know..." he trailed off, then shook himself. "Not now. I said what I said, make sure you do _not_ shoot Barnes, even if he is shooting at you. That's an order," he added, when three opened their mouths at once to protest.

Peggy met Dum Dum's eyes, and saw the same disbelief mirrored there.

Disbelief wasn't even the right word.

 _Horror_.

She was horrified.

Who was this Steve Rogers? Their own would never have suggested–

But it was too late to turn back now.

"As soon as we're all out, Dernier will blow up the base."

 _That_ , Peggy couldn't let go. "With people still inside?"

"They are all HYDRA," Steve said.

"What about the intel?"

"I know everything we need to know, including the fact that this place has to be destroyed. That is an order, too," he said without any kind of mirth – he was entirely serious.

"No, I'm sorry, Cap, but–" Monty began.

"You can wait for us out here, then," Steve said, and straightened. "Other than Bucky and us, nobody leaves the base alive. I have an idea about where he is, I'll get him, you rig the thing, and then blow it up."

They stared at him.

His jaw was clenched, and his eyebrows were drawn together. He had dressed in his Captain America uniform – not his old one, but similar enough, out of a different material. Nobody commented on it. Despite the freshly shaven face and the gear, he had never looked less like himself than in that moment.

And Peggy knew that no matter what they said, Steve wouldn't be swayed. She had seen him this type of determination before, when he marched into Azzano to get to Barnes, and when he put the plane down, after Barnes's death.

Always Barnes.

She nodded, subtly, when the Howlies' eyes scanned her.

"Alrighty then; what's the exact plan?" Gabe asked.

Steve checked his guns, then put the shield onto his left arm.

"We attack," he said, then moved.

Despite the differences it was easy to fell back into the old habit of following their Captain.

It helped that the base wasn't well–protected; no doubt the enemy had hoped the desolate area was enough of a deterrent. But even if they had been expecting an attack, it surely wasn't the ferocious, blood–thirsty entry of one Captain America on a warpath. He charged like a bull seeing red, and foes fell at his hands left and right.

HYDRA. HYDRA was still there.

Peggy didn't pull her punches either.

Steve had _died_ to get rid of HYDRA. He had given up everything, and then these evil, evil people didn't even have the decency to die, and they even took what was more important to Steve than his own life.

And yet, blowing it all up...

Steve got farther and farther away from their group as he fought his way towards the depths of the building.

"Rig it up!" he called back, and then disappeared around a corner.

"Make sure nobody innocent is here," she told the Commandoes, and they quickly formed groups of twos and split up.

Most of the enemy fought rather heedlessly, Peggy realized. Some charged at them with axes; no doubt used to cut down the trees around the base for fuel more than fending off the Allies. They seemed to be short on guns, too, not that she minded as she swept the place with Dum Dum at her side, moving from room to room steadily.

Everybody either attacked them, no question about their loyalties, or tried to run away and raise an alarm. No prisoners, nobody begging for their lives or yielding, even when Gabe kept telling them in German and French that they really should have been waving a white flag if they wanted to survive.

Thompson's three came in handy, too: Peggy hadn't heard more than a dozen words from them before, but they took their fair share and proved themselves to be good allies in the battle.

Morita came running to them after they cleaned the first floor and told them that Falsworth was done on the ground floor, and Dernier had set up enough explosives to send everything up in flames.

The underground level was still uncleared, and still most likely had Steve in it.

"Any sign of the Sarge? Or Cap?" Dum Dum asked, echoing Peggy's thoughts.

"None," said Morita in a flat voice.

“I will go down and check,” Peggy decided, and while the others kept an eye out for further complications, she descended the stairs to the belly of the base.

Peggy had not been there when Steve got Barnes out from the camp in Azzano. She met them days later, after they had walked back and had some time to gather themselves, and Barnes acted... well, normal may not have been the right word; she hadn’t known him before, after all. But he acted like every other POW, at least.

When Steve appeared around the corner in the lowest level of the fortress with Barnes behind him, Barnes was decidedly not acting normal. He had a gun in his hand, one Peggy recognized from Steve's bag, and his other hand... his other hand was a prosthetic, a shiny, sleek metal, the likes of which she'd never seen before. His eyes were shadowed by long, shoulder–length hair, but it took her a while to realize the biggest difference between this Barnes and the Barnes she used to know.

He wasn't focused on Steve. He wasn't attuned to Steve's every move, his eyes didn’t track Steve's movements, ready to leap at anything threatening; a shadow, a guard dog. This Barnes seemed... empty of that instinct.

Sweat broke out on her back from the thought.

She didn't have much time to contemplate, though. They had to get out, Steve leading the way and turning back every couple of seconds to check if Barnes was there. Barnes moved like a cat, and she had to force herself to turn her back to him and let him be at the rear.

He shot at HYDRA, at least, and did whatever Steve told him to; that was a blessing. A small one, but she learned to count them.

Only a handful of HYDRA personnel remained on their level; Steve must have taken them out on the way in. It was enough to stop them from exchanging irrelevant information, like what the _fuck_ had happened to Barnes, and they moved fast. Peggy checked various rooms for possible prisoners, whereas Steve kept heading steadily upwards.

A few more shots, a few more worried glances backwards at Barnes, and then they reconvened with the rest of the team.

“All rigged,” Dernier proclaimed, then his face fell on Barnes. “Sarge! What—”

“Not now,” Steve warned. “I saw a plane in one of the hangars. Let's check if it's in working condition."

Multiple men's eyes met hers, but she just shrugged slightly as they went out to the inner yard after Steve. 

Nobody was left there to shoot at them, at least, but that didn't ease her steps. 

The plane, incredibly, had enough room to host them, and enough fuel to get them off the ground. Steve noted this with grim satisfaction, then turned to Dernier.

"How far do we need to be for the detonation?”

“I’ll tell you when we’ve reached the mark,” Dernier said warily.

Peggy still disagreed with his decision, but knew a lost fight when she saw one. She didn't protest as Dernier sent the building up in a very satisfying show of flames about an hour later, once Monty navigated the plane onto the tiny runway hidden on the other side of the base and lifted them up into the air.

Once they had a moment to collect themselves, DumDum turned towards Barnes with the biggest of grins. But his hand stopped mid-air as he was about to slap him on the back - even without Steve's warning he recognized how bad of an idea that would've been.

"It's good to see you, Sarge," he said, wary underlying his cheer.

Barnes blinked at him with empty eyes but otherwise did not react.

"Bucky, you can sit there," Steve pointed at a seat, next to his own shield. He eyed Barnes until he blinked at him, then dutifully went and sat.

DumDum glared at Steve who just shook his head. "Later," he said, and after Peggy's nod of... what, Peggy couldn't even tell, went and sat by Barnes's side.

DumDum turned the questioning glare on Peggy. Peggy also shook her head and arranged the take-off.

She didn't know what she had expected but this wasn't it.

Even torture and Lord knows what other horrors of a prison camp couldn't have explained Barnes's behaviour. He acted like his soul had left his body. It made her hair stand up.

He did not recognise her. He may not have recognised Steve.

Steve, poor Steve...

Peggy kept glancing at them constantly and as sublty as possible. Some moments, Steve was kneeling in front of Barnes and softly talking to him. Then he was back sitting by his side again. Midway to London she noticed that Barnes was on the verge of falling asleep - then he indeed did slip over, his head resting on Steve's shoulder.

Steve couldn't take his eyes off of him.

She turned back to the front.

Not very long after a horrible scream echoed over the engines, and she had her gun up even before she fully jumped out of her seat. Peripherically she could tell that DumDum and the rest of the team copied her as they stared at Barnes, spooked, eyes wild, aiming his own gun - Steve's own gun - at Steve.

Steve stood calmly across from him with his palms up. "I'm sorry, you fell asleep and had a nightmare, but there's nobody to hurt you here," Steve said. "You're Bucky and I'm Steve and you're not with HYDRA anymore, you will never be with HYDRA anymore."

He said it with the practice of someone having said this before, multiple times, and with the conviction of someone willing to burn down bridges to keep it true.

Barnes's eyes flashed, the whites showing, but Steve just stood there, with his shield carelessly kicked under one of the seats. Peggy suddenly had a deep wave of sympathy for Barnes - for the Barnes that had spent his childhood trying to keep Steve from doing something life-threateningly stupid, that is.

"We're on a plane _away_ from HYDRA," Steve went on.

"Mission?" Barnes asked, but his voice... Peggy shuddered. His voice lost all that typical Brooklyn drawl of his. All the kindness and warmth from before. She would've bet, had she been raised worse, that she wouldn't have recognised him as Sergeant Barnes without being explicitly told it was him.

Steve's face, for a moment, looked like someone whipped him from behind. "No, Bucky. No mission. You are James Buchanan Barnes, Segeant of the Army..."

Barnes closed his eyes but gripped the gun still. He shook his head, not as someone shaking hair out of his face but as someone trying to shake off a nasty thought.

"My Sergeant. You were born in Brooklyn to Winnifred Barnes and--"

"Steve?" Barnes interrupted him. "Steve."

"Yeah, Buck, it's me," and hope blossomed on Steve's face.

Peggy exhaled. She wouldn't have been able to hold the gun up for much longer, but she didn't put it down, not yet. Barnes, however, lowered his.

"Steve..." Barnes rubbed his eyes with his hand and suddenly that gun was pointing at the side of the plane, though he didn't look like he wanted to use it.

"Yeah, I'm Steve," Steve answered and took a step forward.

The gun was back aimed at his heart in a heartbeat, but then Barnes stared at his own arm like he couldn't imagine he moved.

"I'm..." Barnes began, then lowered the gun. "I'm... 32...5...5..."

"...7038, James Buchanan Barnes," Steve finished for him.

Barnes shook his head again but this time the gun remained pointed to the ground until Steve stepped closer and gently pulled it out of his hand. But of course, instead of taking it out of range, he disarmed it and tucked it into Barnes's belt. Then Barnes allowed himself to be guided down to the seat again and leaned against Steve's shoulder and kept staring at his metallic hand until, to the quiet whispers of Steve, he drifted off again.

"What is happening," DumDum murmured to her.

"I couldn't say I know," she said, and finally holstered her gun.

They took the plane over the border without being shot at, for which she thanked and congratulated Monty happily. Back in Poland, they needed to wait half a day for a proper aircraft, because the one from Siberia wouldn't have survived that jurney.

Peggy came close to wanting to strangle Steve with her bare hands in the hopes of wrangling some information out of him, multiple times, and only refrained because Steve didn’t leave Bucky’s side for more than it took to relieve himself.

It was a strange role reversal: back during the war Barnes watched over Steve and made sure he ate and slept enough and kept unwelcome soldiers at arm’s length; and now, Steve did the same for him.

Barnes didn’t almost shoot anybody else, which was at least a step in the right direction, even if he didn’t seem to know anybody – occasionally, not even himself. And whenever Peggy glared daggers at Steve, he just mouthed ‘not now’ at her, then went back to trying to coax Barnes to eat.

“He needs to be checked by medical,” she told Steve when they finally, _finally_ landed back home.

Home. Peggy wondered when she had began thinking of the city as such.

Barnes's eyes were empty again, but he did stand an inch closer to Steve. Maybe.

“No,” Steve said simply.

“Steve–“

“Peggy, I...” he sighed. “What he needs now are not doctors.”

He had this conviction again, the one that told her that he knew more than he let on. That was the only reason she didn't argue; that, and maybe the fact that she wanted nothing else than a hot bath, clean clothes and Daniel’s embrace.

“Then where are you going to go?”

That, at least, stopped him. “…a hotel?” he asked back.

“No, absolutely not.”

“I'm not taking him to the SSR,” Steve said, and again, that something she didn't quite get made his voice steel.

“I wasn't about to ask you to,” she fired back, temper rising. “But he's not going to somewhere with civilians around.”

Even steel could be moved by logic, it turned out. His face fell. Barnes, meanwhile, stood as if he didn't understand English.

“Do _you_ have any suggestions?” Steve asked, and honestly. If he thought she was letting this new, hostile and deadly version of Barnes around civilians, he must also have suffered some sort of brain trauma.

“Yes. To one of Stark's houses. You can probably have a whole building to yourselves.”

She used to be able to read Steve, mainly because they were thinking similarly; his eyes mirrored hers, even if their expressions remained neutral. What flashed on his face was an emotion close to regret, but impossible to properly decipher. Then he glanced at Barnes, considered his options for a moment, and nodded.

“All right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This contains one of the oldest bits I've written for this fic, and it was very taxing to be able to interweave it here properly, hence the delay :/ Please suspend your disbelief about geography and history and other such things though :'D


	4. Chapter 4

Mr. Jarvis did indeed set them up in one of Howard’s conveniently empty houses. It was a testament to how unusual of a life Howard was living, because the butler acted only mildly surprised at finding Captain America and the Howling Commandos in still smelly and dirty combat gear on his front porch in the middle of the night. He only put his foot in his mouth a little, and accepted Peggy’s promise to share the truth with him later, although she herself was unsure about what 'truth' really meant.

Then she told Dum Dum to keep an ear open to Steve and Barnes's room, although she was fairly certain Barnes wouldn't shoot Steve - or rather, that Steve would be able to talk him down - and headed towards Daniel's.

After all this chaos, she desperately longed for his reassuring smile and warm arms, and she was more than willing to make the trip. God, she had missed him so much. She couldn't wait to tell him everything, and reassure him that she was still in love with him and only him.

Would the revelation about Barnes shock him as much as it shocked her? Would he have some advice to share, or a welcome cup of tea to offer? Whichever it would be, Peggy would be eternally grateful. 

Her thoughts carried her towards his place, already imagining his pleasantly surprised expression upon answering the door, and maybe even that she could toss her dirty boots away and climb into his wholly uncomfortable bed, his roommate be damned.

However, nobody answered upon knocking. 

Daniel's night guard roommate was obviously at work, but Daniel should've been home. Maybe he was still at HQ, though unlikely - or he was on an assignment, which, despite his bad leg, had happened before. 

She waited and knocked a few more times, and almost picked the lock just to check, but Daniel would answer the door if he were at home. She rested her forehead against the door, and let out a deep, tired sigh. 

Of course. It's just her luck that when she gets home, Daniel happens to be on a mission.

So now she had to make the choice of going back to Howard's house, or to the Griffith, neither of which seemed appealing after the failed attempt to see Daniel. But to see the Commandos in their familiar camaraderie, or Steve and Barnes, always in each other's orbit, would've been unimaginably worse than the alternative.

She barely had the energy to sneak into the Griffith, but she wanted clean clothes – and more than that. She wanted the familiarity of her _own_ clean clothes, of her trinkets and belongings, more than she wanted a good night’s rest.

This Barnes was just as far from the old as this Steve was from the old, but in a more violent and dangerous way, and the thought unsettled her way more than what she had shown. A chill ran through her when she recalled the empty, uncomprehending look in his eyes. He used to have the most heart of them all, except for maybe Steve – and now...

She hadn't quite believed in time travel – she hadn't doubted Steve, or at least didn't want to, and truth be told, she had seen stranger things out there, but stilll... _time travel_. And yet Steve knew exactly where to go, who would be there, how to find Barnes, how to react to him.

Time travel sure would explain a lot of the whys.

Sometimes she hated her life, and needed the comfort of familiarity to deal with it all.

She knocked on Angie’s door, and just like Mr. Jarvis, she was hardly surprised at her late night visit.

“English!” she squeaked and drew her in to a warm embrace. “What happened to you?”

“Work,” Peggy replied tiredly.

Angie surveyed her after closing the door behind them with pursed lips. “Confidential, I suppose?”

“As usual. Have I been kicked out?”

“No,” Angie said. “I convinced Fry to let you stay. Your room was paid, after all.”

“Thank you,” Peggy said. “I’ll get my things.”

“Hey,” Angie said. “Does this have to do anything with Captain America?”

Peggy blinked at her in slow disbelief. “What?”

“The news was full of his return the day you announced to leave the country for ‘work’ for almost a month,” Angie said. She sat on the edge of her bed in a frilly gown, the very image of pure innocence, and yet each of her words cut to Peggy’s core. “You work with a military-like organization that spies on people, and your name rhymes with Betty Carver.”

Peggy sat down to her vanity chair with a huff. “Is that all?”

“Isn’t it enough? Okay, then how about this: when Miriam wanted to throw you out, I got scared and collected some of your things, including a picture of Captain America that I have never seen anywhere else.”

Angie hopped up and pulled the black-and-white photo of Steve in basic out of a drawer. She also gave Peggy a box full of her other trinkets, her earrings and lipsticks and calling cards.

“You think this is Captain America?”

“Please, English, I know you’re tired, but don’t think that I’m stupid.”

Peggy sighed. “I’m breaking about a hundred rules if I answer honestly.” But whatever, it’s not like she hadn’t broken a hundred more before just by assisting Steve’s crazy mission. “None of my colleagues recognized this photo.”

“They’re men, aren’t they,” Angie said with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes, fine. I _was_ with Captain America in Europe to rescue a member of the Howling Commandos from the soviets.”

“Oh!” Angie exclaimed. “I _knew_ it! Tell me everything.”

And, to her own surprise, Peggy did.

Maybe her state of exhaustion overrode the voice in her head that warned how dangerous it was for Angie to know so much; or maybe, most likely, it was her selfish need to confide in someone she didn’t have to work together with. Someone outside the rules and regulations of the espionage world: a normal human being to help her see things in a different light.

“Time travel,” Angie muttered reverently. “Do you believe it?”

“I don’t see another explanation,” Peggy said, by that point slumping in her chair and rubbing her eyes. “I work with the SSR and I’m friends with Howard Stark; you’d think I’d be used to this by now.”

“I would be worried if you would,” Angie said empathically. “But Cap _and_ Bucky Barnes back from the dead… wow. What are you gonna do next?”

“Sleep,” Peggy said with a laugh. “Talk to Cap and get some answers. Report back to HQ.”

“Daniel?” Angie asked.

“ _Yes_ ,” Peggy said with feeling.

“I mean, does this not.. change things?”

Peggy swallowed back her initial bark of ‘no, of course not’. Because however she would’ve liked to deny it, things were definitely about to change.

“I still love him and want to marry him,” she said instead.

“He must be something for you to chose him over Captain America.”

“He is,” Peggy agreed, at that moment realizing something crucial: even if things had been different, if Steve hadn’t come back from the future and his heart hadn’t been set on Barnes, she still would’ve chosen Daniel. There was not an ounce of regret in her heart about that. 

Her own bed did grant her a few hours of blissful sleep, and then she had to sneak back out _again_ only to appear at the front desk of Miriam and bear her snide remarks before being generously granted the access to her own room.

By then Daniel would’ve already been at the office, and she debated going in directly. However, she wanted to check on the Commandos and see if there were any issues during the night. Furthermore, she had no idea what to tell Thompson. His men, who had disappeared the moment the plane landed, surely have all made their reports, and Peggy was wary of the consequences. Would Thompson demand Steve come back? Would he want to question Barnes? She could imagine how well either of those things would go down.

She ran into Mr. Jarvis at the gate of Howard’s house.

“Good morning, Agent Carter. I’m filling up the pantry,” he said as he lifted his shopping basket.

“Good morning, Mr. Jarvis. Thank you for hosting us at such a short notice,” she said.

“It’s no trouble,” he replied. “Mr. Stark made it very clear that you are always welcome at his homes, and that extends to your… acquittances as well.”

She did not comment on his pause as they unlocked the door. “Mr. Jarvis, do you know how we could reach Howard?"

"Not at the moment," Jarvis said, then paused. "Is that really Captain America?" he blurted out, as if he couldn't quite prevent himself.

"The one and only," she said.

"How?"

"Back from the dead, it would seem," she said. “Please let me know if you hear from Howard.”

The Commandos were still asleep, or at the very least, not on the way to Steve and Barnes’s room. They had been placed the furthest from everybody else, and she trekked through most of the empty mansion until she got to the door Jarvis directed her towards.

Then she just stood there, breathing heavily.

She had a feeling that knocking wouldn't go down well with this Barnes.

And then she didn't need to hesitate anymore, because the door opened and Steve stood there, dressed in civilian clothes instead of his Cap uniform, and looking like he hadn't slept a second.

He nodded at her with a small smile, then opened the door and turned back to where Barnes stood, still in black gear, but at least without any weapons in hand.

She still tensed.

"Bucky, this is Peggy Carter," he said, gesturing at Peggy, as if they had never met before. As if they hadn’t spent long days traveling through Europe. "She helped us get out and destroy the base in Siberia."

No recognition was visible in his eyes as he stared at her.

She used all her training not to show any emotions and to not back down from his gaze.

"You used to wear red," he finally said, and as if coming out from a trance, he relaxed his shoulders visibly.

The smile that spread on Steve's face could've split a lesser man's face. "Yes, she had this beautiful red dress," he said, to Bucky, as if sharing his greatest joy in life.

Barnes shrugged carefully. "I remember," he said, almost defensively.

"I'm glad you do," Steve said softly.

He kept looking at Barnes, who kept looking at the floor.

“I'm reporting back to the SSR," she said, and his eyes flew back to her. "I'm sure Thompson's men have told their part to the director, but I still have my duty."

The same cold, hard expression set on Steve's face that she was becoming very familiar with.

"What do you think he'll want?"

"Glory and headlines," Peggy said. "And for that, Cap's return is the best way."

"Cap isn't back," Steve said firmly.

She blinked at him. "But you--"

"Me, yes, Steve Rogers. Not Cap." She did not open and close her mouth like a fish because she was raised with better manners, but she wanted to. "He can't have me, and if he's half as smart as his position would require then he won't even try."

"He will try, and he will fight dirty," she said.

Steve's eyes narrowed, but hers widened as Barnes was suddenly next to Steve. She did not see him move.

"Mission?" he asked emotionlessly.

"No, Bucky," the firm Steve gave way to a soft-spoken, calming man. She was getting whiplash from how these two changed directions. "There's no more missions, I promise."

Barnes nodded, then his eyes refocused and he shook his head slightly. "But she said..."

"I didn't mean it like that," she hurried to say, even though she did. Thompson would try to use Barnes to force Steve's hand, she had no doubt about it. And Steve, neither this one or the one from before, would not be kind in retaliation. "I'm sure I can talk him down."

Barnes blinked, then blinked again at her. His eyes, for the first time in forever, reminded him of the old one.

"Would you?" Steve asked her, still softly. His whole posture opened up as Barnes got close; shoulders down, arms facing out. And Barnes responded positively, or at the very least, non-violently, which she took as progress.

"Yes," she said, internally sighing at herself. She always managed to get herself into situations like these, but she stood by what she had said earlier: she trusted Steve. Steve needed her help therefore she was going to help him. And then... "But we will talk later."

She stared into Steve's eyes, and he nodded in silent agreement.

Her spirits considerably raised as she put one of her best dresses on – one needs the proper uniform if one was about to go to battle, after all – and at the prospect of seeing Daniel that day. Before she could leave the house, however, she was ambushed by the now very awake Commandos.

"Peg, what is going on," Gabe Jones asked as he beckoned her to the kitchen. She wondered if he had lost a bet with the others, to have to be the one to ask the question.

“We’re Howard Stark’s guests, so make yourselves at home,” she said. Dum Dum latched onto the opportunity to get out of the conversation and conveniently lose himself in the freshly stocked pantry.

"I could get used to this kind of treatment," he said, hands full of bacon and eggs.

“What about Cap and Sarge?” Gabe pressed on. Dernier, the coward, went to help Dum Dum instead, but the rest watched her with rapt attention.

“I don’t think they’d be joining us for breakfast,” Peggy said.

“That ain’t a bad thing,” Falsworth murmured, and when she glared at him, he lifted his hands defensively. “Hey! You saw his eyes; I ain't the only one thinking this."

"The Sergeant has been a prisoner of war for years," Peggy said, because she had nothing better to say. "You should all understand what that means."

"It doesn't mean you don't recognize the man who saved you multiple times and had also lived with you for years," Gabe argued, refusing to covet to her. "Which Sarge told us about, multiple times.”

“Or that you aim your gun at said best friend,” Falsworth added.

“We’re missing something here,” Gabe finished, and maybe he hadn’t lost a bet, but volunteered willingly.

"I don't have all the answers," Peggy admitted, and rubbed her forehead. "I found out about this a day before I called you to Poland. But whatever's happened, Steve is still our Captain and Barnes is still his Sergeant. And Steve believes that Sergeant Barnes can come back from whatever this is – that's enough for me."

In the army, and in the SSR as well, she was always told never to show weakness. She was supposed to be ever so confident, never in doubt, always in charge. But she knew better: Steve hand-picked the Commandos for a reason, and that wasn't blind obedience. She had gained their trust, and she trusted them in return with the truth, which was that she didn't have all the answers.

Gabe eyed her, and Dum Dum threw a knowing glance at her way, too, but neither pried more. Apparently, Steve’s confidence was enough not just for her, but for the rest as well.

"So what do we do now?" Falsworth asked. "None of us actually planned on coming back to the States."

"I have to get hold of Howard Stark," she said. "And I have to report back to the SSR. If you could stay while all this clears up, I would be very thankful.”

The Commandos looked at each other, and nodded one after another, before Gabe spoke up.

"Then we'll stay."

She arrived somewhat late to the office, but evidently Thompson had been waiting for her. Instead of bedrudging her, however, he just signed her to get into the office, and so she did, noting in her hurry that Daniel hadn't yet made it in.

"So now _Barnes_ is alive too?" Thompson demanded.

"Yes," she said.

"Any other war heroes back from the dead we should know about?"

"Not that I know of."

"Good. I expect they'll be reporting back soon?"

_Keep on expecting_ , she thought. "I wouldn't be certain about that."

"What?" he jerked his head up.

"Captain Rogers doesn't want to return to active service."

He scoffed. "That's not up to him."

"With all due respect, it is. He served his country and gave his life for it."

"And yet he is living and breathing just fine," he fired back. "And we don't know why or how, and not complying with authorities is against the law."

"Do you want to arrest him?"

He sighed. "We've been through this, Carter. Look, I've been nice, I agreed to let him go, you even got backup for your unauthorized mission, and now it's time he remembered his duty."

"He never forgot it, not once," Peggy gritted through her teeth. Even though she wished Steve to return, and hoped, deep down, that he still would, the last person to give this lecture without any hint of irony was Thompson himself. "He fought through most of the war with nothing but a shield and a handful of loyal men. If you had remembered yours, you wouldn't have been promoted."

Thompson recoiled. "What are you implying?"

"You know damn well what," she said. "Leave Captain Rogers alone, Jack, for your own sake."

He measured her up and down, and whatever rapport they may have had, she sure burned it to the ground now.

"You may think you have the upper hand, but what if Senator Cooper calls? What if the President does?"

Steve had had defied Colonel Phillips, and Senator Brandt, and many, many others before. She had no doubt that he would do it again with even less hesitation.

"That will no longer be your problem," she said, and turned on her heels.

Thompson delegated a cold case to her, effectively putting her on secretary duty. This did not go unnoticed; many of her colleagues asked if Cap got killed to get Thompson into such a foul mood.

He may as well have, she thought bitterly.

The only saving grace of the day was that Daniel smiled at her without delay when he arrived around noon, even after spending weeks apart that she spent running around in a foreign country, following another man.

Daniel truly had the kindest heart of them all.

"It's nice to see you," he told her during lunch break.

"You too, Daniel," she said, and she didn't have to force a smile. "Can I come over tonight?"

He seemed surprised, but pleased. "Of course," he said, just as lowly as she had.

Daniel opened the door with a steamy mug of tea in hand, and she fell a little bit more in love with him.

"This is the best thing to happen to me all... month," she said, after taking off her uncomfortable shoes and sprawling out in an armchair to take a sip. "Thank you."

"I didn't think you'd say that while Captain America has just returned from the dead."

She sighed. "I camped through the better part of Siberia to rescue his best friend who doesn't seem to know who I am - or Steve is, before Steve told me that Captain America is dead for all he cares, then I blackmailed Thompson into leaving him alone, which may or may not have been successful. Oh, and my landlady all but screamed at me for daring to move back to the Griffith. So this tea? This tea saves lives."

Daniel raised an eyebrow at her. "Should I also offer a foot massage?"

"If you want me to marry you."

"I do, in fact," he said seriously.

"So do I," Peggy agreed, and offered her feet to him. "I came over yesternight, when I got back."

His jaw didn't drop, but his eyebrows raised in surprise, and she made a promise to herself to do more for him, to make him feel more sure in her feelings. "Oh?" he asked.

"I wanted to see you," she admitted, and hated how hard it was for her to say so. But she could overcome years of building walls around her so she could have a fighting chance against the cruel, cruel world; she could do this. "I missed you, Daniel. I wish I never had to leave in the first place."

He moved one hand from her feet to her hand, and kissed it. "I was on a stakeout, but now I'm sorry I couldn't see you."

"But I'm here now," she said, and squeezed his hand.

“That bad?” he asked, about half an hour later, when most of the tea was gone along with some of her bad mood and the kinks in her soles.

“He’s not the Steve from before,” she said. “He’s not the same, and I didn’t think I would ever meet that person again, but this change is even…”

She trailed off, but Daniel understood her. “Worse,” he said softly.

“That sounds like I regret that he’s alive.”

“You can be happy that he’s alive and yet sad about it at the same time,” he pointed out. “And you’re also not the same.”

Peggy hummed.

“Do we know how he survived?”

“Not really,” Peggy said. “I’m still trying to find Howard Stark. The Howling Commandos came back to the States, too. Oh, and Sergeant Barnes is alive.”

Daniel’s hand spasmed on her calf. “How so?”

“Captured by Soviets,” she said. She let her head drop back to the backrest. “This was the longest month of my life.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t have been there.”

She reached for his hand and squeezed it. “Not your fault.”

“Still sorry,” Daniel smiled. “So now you’re in Jack’s bad book too.”

“Oh yeah. If you’ve an interesting case… you know what, never mind. The cold cases will be just what I need for now, until the world starts making sense again.”

“Do you think it ever will?” Daniel asked, and she swatted him – but deep down, she had her own doubts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen, I know know some of the side-characters are not as developed as they should be, but I wrote this as a pure self-indulgent wishful fantasy, so please be forgiving here.  
> Same goes with Peggy and Angie not living together at Howard's mansion - I think I started writing this story before the season finale, hence the setting's change :)


	5. Chapter 5

She absolutely did not wish to leave Daniel's and go back to the house with the Commandos, the new, unnerving Steve and the new, even more unnerving Barnes, but she would never let worry get the best of her. She needed to be there in case something – anything – happened. 

But that night, nothing did.

No screams signaling a nightmare or someone being strangled, no gunshots, not even the smallest peep. 

She wondered if no news was good or bad news, but she took it as the universe cutting her some slack at last and used the opportunity to rest for as long as she was able.

The next morning, neither Steve nor Barnes were at the breakfast table, and the Commandos hadn’t seen them since the day before.

“I’ll check on them,” she sighed, when the rest kept staring at her with wide, pleading eyes. _Men are cowards._

She was already out the room when she heard Gabe’s tentative question. “Shouldn’t we… help?” 

“I don’t want to be in the middle of that,” Dum Dum replied, and she agreed with him wholeheartedly. She did not wish to be in the middle of this either.

But she had to be. At least she had to make sure that Barnes hadn’t murdered Steve in his sleep, so she knocked on their door, and stood back when a muffled grunt and something heavy toppling over was heard from the inside.

“It’s Peggy,” she said to the still closed door. "I came here to invite you for breakfast, the Commandos are already there.” 

Steve opened the door, thankfully alive, though with a fresh set of dark circles under his eyes and unshaved stubble on his jaw.

“Good morning,” he said. “Breakfast, you said?”

In the background, Barnes was staring at the table, which he apparently had kicked over at the sound of her knock. 

“Yes, your presence would be welcome,” she said, and hoped she lied convincingly. 

"Sure," Barnes said mechanically, shoulders hunching – whether at her words or at the ruined furniture, she couldn’t have said.

Steve’s mouth twitched.

"You know what, Buck, I don't really feel up for the company. Peggy, would you excuse me?" Steve said. 

She did not call him out on his lie, and neither did Barnes. Peggy was becoming less and less surprised and more disappointed about that. 

"Of course. I think they can bring you a tray here, if you'd like?"

"If it's not trouble," Steve smiled at her gratefully, then turned to Barnes again. "You can of course go, Bucky, but you're welcome to stay with me. I just don't want a whole room of people asking questions."

He may have even been honest about that, but to Peggy it was crystal clear that it was all for Barnes's sake. 

Barnes was still staring at the table, tense as a violin string. Part of her wished to be able to read his mind, part of her dreaded what might be lurking there. 

She shifted her weight after a few silent seconds, and Steve's eyes darted to her with a clear warning in them _: stay put_. 

She forcefully relaxed and refused the urge to shuffle.

"I'll... I'll keep you company," Barnes finally said with visible relief on his face.

"Thank you," Steve said, and she didn't remember the last time she had seen him so... _happy_. 

She wanted to say more. She wanted to tell him that Thompson was dealt with, but she still wanted to know more; she wanted to caution him to be careful. She had so many questions. 

Under normal circumstances she would’ve thought it rude to miss breakfast, but she agreed with Steve: Barnes was most likely not up for the company. She couldn't predict him, had no idea what to expect of him. Back then it had been so different...

But had it been, she wondered, as Barnes, as if waking from deep sleep, crouched and set the table straight. She had written Barnes off at first glance as just another charmer; a cocky soldier wanting to get into her panties. She had been somewhat disappointed in him; after all she had heard from Steve, she had expected more of him. Yet he’d turned out to be the most loyal person she had ever known, and his main priority had been to always protect Steve, and he thus begrudgingly gained her respect. 

Barnes had always been just as good as defying expectations as Steve. 

Maybe that's the mindset she needed to adapt to this new Barnes as well; he may not be as volatile and alien as he had appeared.

So, instead of asking or saying anything, she nodded at Steve and quickly left them alone.

Jack tried to convince her a few more times to get Steve back to the SSR as he was being hounded by his superiors who wanted nothing more than to find the 'missing' Cap. Peggy stood her ground unwaveringly, no matter how many cold cases and secretary duties she had to do. The lack of excitement at work meant she was able to focus more on Daniel, and the Commandos as well, and she welcomed the respite, even if it meant no real break throughs for her. And even when she had to type up boring reports, most of her colleagues treated her better than they had before Dooley’s death, and brought _her_ coffee instead of the other way around.

Peggy counted that as a win, and after work, she went out for dinner with Daniel with the wonderful knowledge that no case needed her attention more at the moment.

“You’re taking this better than I feared,” Daniel said carefully as they were walking home, stomach full of a warm meal, head somewhat buzzing with light wine, and heart full of love. 

“I can take a break,” Peggy said indignantly. 

“Will it last until the end of the week, you think?” 

“Hey,” Peggy scoffed, then smiled. “It’s easy to sit back for a while when I know you’ll tell me if something needs my help.”

“God help me, I will,” Daniel said. 

She went back to Howard’s house to check on things regularly, and good thing, too: one night Dum Dum was waiting for her on the corridor with a mildly anxious face.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Not wrong, just… come this way," he said, and lead her to Steve's part of the house. As they got closer, she could hear soft jazz playing, coming from their suite.

“Steve asked us to get a record, and it’s been on ever since,” he explained. "He told Falsworth not to disturb him unless in an emergency, and we haven’t seen them since for two days.”

Ultimately, the question was if Peggy trusted Steve's leadership with this. 

“What do you think?” Dum Dum asked her. “Would Sarge…” then he trailed off, not daring to finish the sentence.

The music wasn't loud enough to keep anybody awake, nor to mask any violent sound. 

"They've never been like this, after Azzano, right?" she asked back. Just to be sure. Just to get a second opinion. 

Maybe she had missed something. Maybe she was just imagining things. 

"Sarge pretended nothing had happened," Dum Dum said with a sad shake of his head. "We all did." 

"I'm sorry," she said, and took a deep breath. "Leave them be, but keep an eye on their door during the day."

"Sure thing," he agreed, and set up a rotation by the time she had to leave. 

The rest of the week went by in the following vein: the Howlies would report that Steve only ever left the suite to return the tray and say thank you to whomever he happened to meet; the music would constantly be on; and Peggy would be ignored in the office by Thompson and be delegated to the most boring of cases. 

The situation at home worried her the most. Steve had never been good with self-preservation, especially not when Barnes was concerned, and she desperately wanted to check on him.

She just really didn't wish to be shot dead through the door by an overzealous Barnes. 

Daniel offered some bullet-resistant gear that the SSR was developing, and Angie advised that someone should throw rocks at the window while she knocked on the door as a distraction. Peggy appreciated their support, but decided to just simply knock unless she ran into Steve by Friday, her self-proclaimed deadline. Which was how she found herself at their door at Friday night, bracing herself. 

She didn't recognize the track coming from inside: a soft piano ballad with a soothing rhythm that calmed even her nerves. Maybe Steve was onto something. 

She knocked ever so softly on the door, then had to wait a few moments for it to open.

Steve's eyes were almost invisible in the shadows of his face and the dark circles under his eyes. 

"Steve–"

"Sh," Steve put his finger in front of his mouth, then stepped to the side so she could look inside. 

Barnes was curled up on the sofa like a child, staring ahead, eyes unseeing into the fireplace, but he still looked calmer than she had seen him since his return.

Steve followed her gaze, then smiled at her tiredly.

"The music helps," he whispered. "And so does sleeping and resting. He didn't even jump at your knock."

Peggy released a breath she didn't know she was holding. 

"When have _you_ last slept?" she asked. 

Steve looked at her without comprehension.

"Sleep," she repeated, slowly. "You need it too."

"I've slept enough," he waved. 

"Doesn't look like it."

"He needs me now, Peggy. The first few weeks are the hardest, but he's doing so well already..."

She wondered how she had ever missed what Barnes meant to him. 

"You don't have to do this alone," she said. "You have me and the team here."

Even in the half-light, something clearly stuck a nerve with him as he was looking back at Barnes. 

"Steve–"

"Alright," he exhaled. "You're right. I forgot... nevermind. Will you come in?" 

She did, and he closed the door behind her before kneeling next to Barnes.

"Bucky, Peggy is here."

He jerked at his touch, and his eyes focused on her immediately. She tried to look unthreatening. Barnes seemingly had no weapons, but his gaze was cutting enough. 

"She's a friend and she came to help," Steve said. He had no fear of Barnes and she envied him. 

But Barnes reacted in kind and relaxed; even yawned, to her surprise.

"Good, you need more friends, Steve," he said gruffly. 

Steve about melted into the ground at that. 

"She's a friend for us both," he said. "Do you mind if she stays for a while?" 

Barnes tensed, but shrugged defiantly. "Sure."

Steve beamed and Barnes huffed, and she sat down to a chair across from him.

"Would you like some tea?" 

"No, thank you, Steve. How are you doing, Sergeant Barnes?" 

Steve flopped down into an armchair and pulled his legs under him, eyes never leaving Barnes. 

"Bucky," Barnes mumbled. "My name is Bucky."

Of all the men in her life, he was the one who managed to catch her off-guard the most often, which was saying a lot, given that the list also included Steve. 

"Bucky," she said, and it rolled off her tongue strangely. "How are you, Bucky?"

"'M fine," he said. "Steve just worries too much."

"He does," she admitted. "He's always been like that."

Barnes paused, even forgot to breathe for a moment, then he continued, like a jostled record player. "I suppose," he said tentatively. 

"Do you like the music?"

"It's nice," he said, and closed his eyes, as if listening closely. "It feels real."

She had no idea what to do with that. She looked at Steve for advice, but Steve's eyes were closed, and his head flopped to the side – he was fast asleep at last. 

"It is real," she said. 

"You think so?" Barnes asked, but did not wait for an answer. "I suppose it can be."

She wanted to ask what he meant, but she didn't want to know the answer.

She didn't want confirmation of her fears. She didn't want to hear that Barnes thought he was still captive, that he was just imagining things; that Steve had to be awake to remind him constantly; that this explained why Barnes was so volatile.

Imagining, fearing it was bad enough. 

"Have I ever told you how I got into the SSR?" Peggy asked, as a distraction for herself or him, she couldn’t decide. 

"...no."

"Well, I was always an unruly child, but then I almost got married instead..."

He did not much look at her during her tale, but as her cadence and the music washed over him, the frown cleared off of his forehead. His breathing evened out as she recounted being the top codebreaker in her class, and by the time she was at the most painful part – at Michael – he was looking at her with droopy eyes.

"His death made me realize so many things," she said. "He had always believed in me and he was right. I helped to win the war, and I'm still helping now, and I wouldn't have been able to do any of it as a housewife."

She concentrated on her heartbeat to stifle her tears before they reached her eyes. 

She could count on one hand how many times she ever told this story, talked about her brother, and she hoped it wouldn't make things worse with Barnes. 

"I believe you," Barnes said suddenly. "They would never tell me something that was motivated by compassion."

"I'm glad I didn't just tell this for nothing," she huffed, somewhat more wetly than intended, and he smirked at her.

  
  


The Commandos were eager to help, now that they had something specific to do other than the vague ‘listen for any sign of trouble.’ Over the weekend, they rotated in and out of Steve's suite, and told stories about themselves that they hadn't, before, at Steve's request: he said that Barnes should be allowed to remember the war stories himself. 

Steve was always present as well, but even just an hour of napping here and there did wonders for him. On Sunday he almost looked well. 

"I didn't think Sarge– _Bucky_ was gonna improve this fast," Dernier admitted to her after his turn was over at night, twisting his lapels. 

"At least Steve did," she said, considering time travel again. Steve _had_ acted remarkably like he had known what was going to happen. 

"I never seen anything like it, and he says the weirdest sh– stuff, but I'm glad you had his back."

So was Peggy. 

It all paid off when on Monday morning, Steve showed up at the breakfast table with Barnes in tow. 

All the noise died at once, but Steve didn't have to force his smile as he said, "Good morning. We thought we'd get some coffee."

"Morning," Barnes said too, in his usual mechanical way, but he kept very close to Steve's back. Peggy took it as a good sign. 

Morita stood to get the coffee, but Steve waved him down. 

"So, about that match – good result, eh?" Dum Dum said, forcefully drawing attention away from the pair.

"Yes, what a match!" Jones agreed eagerly.

Steve showed Barnes where the milk and the sugar were, then let him to make his own.

"If only we had matches like that more often," Falsworth chimed in. 

Barnes tasted his coffee after reflexively putting two sugars in, but frowned, and added a few more. Steve, unsurprisingly, looked at him as if he hung the Moon. 

"Will you to stay for breakfast?" Peggy asked.

Steve glanced at Bucky, then back at her. "No, thank you, Peggy. Thank you for all your kindness, and don't worry about us; we'll come back later for something more solid."

He lifted his coffee, then they trotted back to where they came from. 

"A week ago I wouldn't have thought that was possible," Morita murmured, and they all agreed quietly. 

During work, Peggy's mind kept wandering back to Steve and Barnes. It was as if she was able to breathe again for the first time since his return; not that they were out of the gutter, and Barnes still wasn't acting like his old self, but at least he was acting civilly. And Steve got to rest, too.

"You are cheerful today," Daniel told her. 

"Things are finally looking up," she said, and wanted to twirl like a little girl.

That blissful feeling lasted until mid-afternoon, or more precisely, until she had to get a file from the archives. 

The dust would be hard to get off of the nice dress she was wearing, and she took very careful steps in the overcrowded room full of old files: one wrong move, and she would be covered in dust bunnies. It was a thought to share with Angie only – her coworkers wouldn't understand, only scoff. But they had their wives to do the cleaning, of course they didn't care. 

But even apart from the dust bunnies, the filing system was a mess. The least they could’ve done was to stick to alphabetical order, but no: boxes were thrust on the shelves based on where they fit, the recently viewed folders were just left on top of whatever flat surface was available… it was a miracle anything got done at the SSR with a mentality like this. 

She finally found what she was looking for almost a full, frustrating hour later, spent by making mental notes to give to Thompson - or at the very least, his secretary - about how things should be improved. 

"I can't believe we're doing this _again_ ," she heard Agent Bloom say from the depth of the room.

"Gentleman," she said, and a shout followed: the agent presumably dropped a file onto his foot. She turned the corner, and corrected herself. “Gentlemen.”

"Carter, you in the bad books again to be here?" Bloom asked her after he was done laughing at Agent Jacobi, who was the one bending down to pick his folder up from the ground.

"Something like that," she said. “And you?"

"Have to dig up Stark's previous interview," Jacobi grumbled with the air of a man hating not only the offending folder, but the universe in general.

"Oh? What for?"

"He'll be up for questioning tomorrow morning," Bloom said. 

She, too, almost dropped her own file. "What? He's back?"

"Entered the country this morning; haven't you heard?"

Gears clicked fast: Thompson deliberately hadn’t told her that Howard was back, which, fine. She could take the childish jab. But if Howard was back, up for an interrogation, then he also would know where Steve was, or find out very soon – and would want to meet Steve.

And would meet Barnes as well.

And while Barnes was much more civil now, there was no telling how he'd react to a very curious genius disregarding personal space.

She turned on her heel and only stopped at her desk to grab her coat, but half the office still stopped to stare at her élan.

"Hey, Carter, where do you think you're going?" Thompson, on his way back from a coffee break, asked. 

"Trying to correct your mess once again," she said, and he barely had time to jump away before she jostled the coffee out of his hand as she breezed past. 

The taxi couldn't have driven any faster, but it still took an eternity of nervous scenarios flickering in her mind to reach Howard's house. 

She hoped she was worrying for nothing. Maybe Howard hadn’t come straight here. Maybe he didn't even know he was going to be interviewed – but no, of course he did. But maybe...

She threw a bill at the driver and shot out the door, then up the stairs.

Maybe the Howlies apprehended him and explained the situation. 

She unlocked the front door and rushed inside.

"Peg, Howard just came back," Dernier fell in line with her.

"Where is he?" 

"Wanted to see Cap, naturally."

Oh _Lord_. "And Barnes?"

"Cap said he could handle it," Dernier said, but by then he was also frowning.

Peggy shot towards their suite. 

"D'you think–"

"Not now," she panted, and she was at their door, which was slightly ajar, and then–

"Howard, don't!" Steve barked, a clear order, the likes of which she hadn't heard from him since the front. 

She swung the door open to see Howard freeze mid-motion as he was reaching towards Barnes's left arm while Barnes's right arm pointed a gun squarely at the center of Howard's head. 

"I didn't mean to," Howard said and swallowed. "I get it, no touching, sorry!"

"Buck, he didn't mean to hurt you," Steve stepped forward, and to their surprise – but clearly not Steve's – the gun remained on Howard. "He worked with us before. He doesn't want to hurt you."

"Damn right I don't!" Howard added.

Steve slid himself into the space between the gun and Howard. 

Barnes looked at the gun, then back at Steve, not understanding the new situation.

"He helped make me bigger, and healthier," Steve said. 

He probably could've forcefully taken the gun, and taken Barnes out, but didn’t. Peggy held her breath. 

"Yeah, Sarge, remember?"

Steve's shoulders tensed at that, and Peggy saw on Barnes's face that he did not, in fact, remember. But the 'Sarge' did jostle a reaction and he, almost reflexively, said, "My name is Bucky."

"Yeah, okay, sorry, Bucky..." Howard babbled, but Barnes paid no attention to him. He turned the gun in his hand, as if seeing it for the first time, and he looked up at Steve in confusion.

"Steve?"

"Yeah, pal, it's me. And Howard. You're in New York, the war is over, you're safe."

"I– Steve," Barnes said, then dropped the gun in disgust. "Steve," he called out, and her heart broke for him.

Whatever was wrong with his mind, it must have been horrible to live with.

He sounded utterly broken and lost.

"Yeah, Bucky, I'm right here."

Steve raised his arms, but didn't step closer. Peggy barely noticed that Dernier pocketed his raised gun beside her. 

"What the fuck is wrong with me?" Barnes half-sobbed.

She could've sworn she heard the shattering of Steve's heart. 

"Nothing's wrong with you," Steve said, softly; ever so softly. "You've been tortured, they tried to erase who you are. But you're fighting it, and you came back, and it doesn't matter that you can get surprised." 

Barnes wiped his face with his left hand, then stared at the metal too. 

"I hate this!" he screamed. "You can't stay– I can't–"

"Of course I'm staying," Steve said still softly, but with determination. He took half a step ahead, and Barnes didn't flee, even though by then their feet were almost touching. "I'll always be here with you. 'Till the end of the line."

Barnes still shook his head, but he didn't protest when Steve took his metal hand gently, and drew him into a hug. He even buried his face in Steve's neck after a moment of stillness.

Howard took his chance and tiptoed out of the room, and Peggy and Dernier followed him.

"What was that," Howard asked at the living room, so they explained what little they knew. 

After, Howard nursed his bruised ego and his whiskey, and rubbed his temple.

"Okay, I should've asked first, I know."

"He hasn't done that in a week," Falsworth said sadly. 

"If that's supposed to be encouraging: it's not."

"But he didn't try to shoot Steve, which _is_ encouraging," Morita said. 

Howard sighed. "When I went off the grid to nail down a new formula a few weeks ago, this was not what I expected to come home to."

"The SSR doesn't quite know what to make of Steve, either. They'll want you to verify it's really him."

"Oh it's him alright," Howard grumbled. "Marching into Siberia to rescue his best friend who's clearly unstable and has severe amnesia? If that doesn't scream Steve Rogers to you, I don't know what does."

"I told them as such, and they still wanted you, so you'll have to do some tests as well." 

"And how do we do that?" Dum Dum asked. "Bucky isn't exactly stable without Cap."

"It'll be fine," Steve said from the door, but gestured to stand down when they wanted to jump up as one. "Bucky fell asleep and I'll get back to him in a minute. Howard, I'm sorry."

"Wasn't what I was expecting, but I've been through worse," Howard waved generously. "Steve... how?"

He didn't step closer, apparently having learned a valuable lesson, but the wonder in his face mirrored what Peggy had felt too. 

"The serum helped me survive the fall," Steve said. "The ocean, the plane, all of it."

"How did you get out?" 

"That's a long story," Steve said. "Too long to leave Bucky alone for."

Nobody contested that.

"But tomorrow you can run whatever tests on me if it'll make the SSR leave us alone, just... don't try to touch Bucky's left arm."

"Duly noted."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for some pretty ableist sentiments here (they get called out on, but still).

Steve gave his shield to Peggy in a brown bag to take to the office for further testing. She took it straight to the lab, where she knew Howard would be after his round with Thompson. Then she hovered around the corridor of the interrogation rooms; she wouldn't actively be able to listen in, but she wanted to know how it went first-hand. 

Howard and Thompson emerged after only twenty minutes. 

"You're not allowed to influence our expert any further," Thompson told her without hesitation.

"I've brought Captain America's shield to the lab," she said.

Thompson squinted, but Howard clapped his hands in excitement. "Excellent. Since we know for a fact that the shield was with him when the Valkyrie went down, that should prove his identity almost unquestioningly."

He hurried away towards the elevator, and Thompson stepped closer to Peggy.

"Carter, about yesterday?"

"Yes, director?"

"One more outburst like that, and you're fired. I don't care if you're the best, you can't question my authority."

She looked him in the eye. 

"Thank you," she said.

"For what?"

"Calling me the best. You're not so bad yourself, Jack."

The conclusive results were in before closing hours: the shield was the one of a kind vibranium made by Howard Stark himself, belonging to none other than Captain America.

"Good job, Carter," multiple men clapped her on the shoulder, because apparently every further bit of proof was worthy of celebrating, to the eternal annoyance of Thompson.

"Couldn't the shield have fallen out of the plane and then been found by someone?" he asked.

"Highly unlikely," Howard said. "The chances of that are slim to none. Besides, I've spoken to the Captain too, and he definitely sounds like the man I knew."

A moderate exaggeration; but she wasn't going to argue with the expert. 

Thompson shooed the loitering agents away before he turned back to Howard. "But we have no way of knowing if someone like Fennhoff got to him. Or to Barnes."

Howard couldn't quite hide the slight flinch at that. "We have no way of knowing that about anybody," he settled on saying. 

Thompson did not frown at Peggy, but he may as well have. 

"I want to know if they are safe to run about. And if the soviets or whoever got to Barnes first, what intelligence they got from him?"

"I wouldn't ask that when Rogers is around," Howard said. 

"With all due respect, Barnes went missing almost half a year before the war. There is nothing he could've told them that would still be useful years later," Peggy added.

"He knew about the SSR," Thompson said.

"So did most of HYDRA, and whoever they shared it with."

"I still want to question Barnes."

Maybe Thompson hoped to get an ally in Howard, but if so, he was about to get very disappointed. 

"Yes, well, and I want to finally nail the formula of the invisibility powder, but we can't all have what we want, can we?" 

"Sergeant Barnes is recovering," Peggy said, because a vein started pulsing on Thompson's forehead in warning of an outburst. "I'm sure Captain Rogers wouldn't like the setback."

Thompson glared at her. "And I _care_ so much about what the beloved soldier likes, do I?"

Howard patted him on the arm. "Most people eventually learn to."

When Barnes showed up on Steve's heels for coffee the next morning, he looked like he hadn’t slept a minute. But even through downcast, red-rimmed eyes and a rusty voice, he addressed Howard directly.

"I'm sorry I attacked you," he mumbled. 

"Doesn't matter," Howard waved, just like with Steve. "You have a fascinating arm, though!"

Barnes grabbed his metal wrist with his right hand; Steve glowered at Howard. 

"You know, purely as a scientist, that is. I heard from the good old Cap you were interested in my flying cars?"

Barnes blinked up at him at that. "You have flying cars?"

"...not yet," Howard admitted. "But I do have some cool stuff. Maybe you -- and Steve -- can come to the lab and see some?"

Barnes hesitated, and Steve, usually not the one to take the initiative from him, stepped up. "Or maybe you could bring something over?" 

Howard paused, then nodded. "Sure, that could work just as well.”

"Thank you," Barnes said wholeheartedly, and he reminded Peggy so much of a kid that used to live a few doors down from her, whose parents always shouted at him, that her heart sank in her chest.

"Dum Dum, would you do me a favor?" Steve asked, turning to his old comrade.

"Yeah, sure."

"Could you find out what papers we'd need to fill to get our back pay? Now that Howard verified we're us?"

All eyes turned to Steve. Peggy wouldn't have believed it was him talking, had she not seen his mouth move.

"Back pay?" 

"We're entitled for a few years' worth each," Steve said. "It'd be a good headstart for the future. Get a place down the line, you know."

They didn't know. Barnes did not react other than to meticulously measure sugar into his coffee, but the rest definitely were gobsmacked.

"I... sure, yeah, I'll do what I can," Dum Dum fumbled. 

"You want to move out?" Peggy asked.

"Eventually," Steve nodded. "We're so grateful for your hospitality, Howard, but we obviously can't live here forever. And the paperwork will take months, so I just want it to get started."

Steve. Steve wanted money?

Of course, he needed money to live, but... Steve feeling _entitled_ ... They _should_ get that money, yes. They had served and suffered, and if they were qualified for back pay, they should have it. But hearing Steve asking for it… it still jarred Peggy. 

"Thanks," Steve smiled. 

They, again, did not stay for breakfast, but every bit of human interaction seemed to help Barnes, at least.

  
  


The office was in a complete buzz when Peggy entered on Monday morning. Before she could ask anybody what had happened, Daniel waved her over.

"Does the Captain know?" he gestured at the front page, and Peggy's stomach dropped.

 _CAPTAIN AMERICA BACK ON HOME SOIL_ , the headline screamed.

They featured his photo back from the war, all geared up in the classic uniform. Peggy skimmed the article, which recounted Cap's mysterious and unexplained return a few weeks before, including the mention of the car crash, then how he went missing before the government could confirm or deny anything, and now that he was seen in New York again.

At least there was no word on Siberia, or Barnes, or where Steve was staying now. 

"No, I don't think he does," Peggy said. "Who leaked it?"

Daniel shrugged. "This means Washington will round up on Thompson - they weren't very happy when he 'lost' Cap."

"And he'll go after Steve," Peggy sighed. She wanted to plop down to a chair and ask Daniel to massage her shoulders, and the week had barely began. 

"And that's nothing compared to who else will go after him," Daniel said. She looked at him in question. "The press will try to get a photo of him, and they usually disregard the law."

"They don't know where he is."

"For now," Daniel said broodily, and Peggy had to concede. 

"Wonderful. I'm sure they'll bring back those awful radio shows as well."

"Let's face it: Cap's return is the news of the decade."

Except Peggy knew that Cap wouldn’t return until Barnes got better, and who knew when that would happen.

The phone on Thompson's desk kept ringing all day, and Thompson shed not only his jacket, but his tie as well by early afternoon. She didn't envy his secretary; the poor thing had to run back and forth to deliver his coffee and bear his rudeness. 

Then a complete hush fell over the office, coming from the desks closest to the elevator and rippling through the rest in one smooth wave. She looked up, and could feel her eyebrows raise at seeing none other than Steve, dressed in civilian clothes but carrying his Captain America helmet, at the door. 

"I'd like to speak to Director Thompson," he said, and Agent Jacobi scrambled to open Thompson's door and call out to him.

"Captain Rogers," Thompson said, stepping out of his office. Even his sleeves were folded up. "Please, come to my of--"

"I wouldn't want to interrupt your work for long," Steve shook his head. He took a few steps until he was standing in the middle of the office floor, unwavering and calm, but she saw in his eyebrows the quiet fury that dictated so many of his decisions. Thompson had to walk closer to imitate a sense of privacy, even though a fly would have been heard in the complete silence of the office, let alone their voices.

"Agent Carter has told you that as long as Sergeant Barnes is recovering, I am technically unavailable," Steve went on. "Clearly you disregarded that."

"I had nothing to do with the papers finding out," Thompson said, immediately on the defensive.

"Of course not," Steve said, and he didn't sound sarcastic, but it was clear he didn't believe a word of Thompson’s. "But now everybody knows I'm in the States, including the fine people of Washington, so I came to make my stance clear."

Peggy braced herself.

He was calm, still so calm, and that was always more frightening than raw, uncontrolled anger. The latter always came from a sudden emotion, and could pass just as easily, but if Steve was calm, it meant that he had thought this through. That he wouldn't be swayed.

"Captain America is not back," he said. "Captain America died in the war. I'm just a soldier who survived." 

He threw the helmed down at a desk, and multiple agents jumped at the unexpected sound. "You can appoint a new Captain if you happen to find the right person for the role. I'm not that man anymore."

Then he just stood there, silent, waiting. 

"But..." Thompson scrambled for something to say himself, and Peggy couldn't blame him. What was happening?

"You can't just 'quit' being Cap," Agent Malley blurted out. 

"Why not?" Steve asked back, as if they were debating a topic at a philosophy class. "I took up the role when it was necessary, but the war is over, and I'm needed elsewhere."

"A nurse can look after Barnes," someone else Peggy couldn't see spoke up.

It was the wrong thing to say. Steve's face darkened, his brows furrowed, and multiple people shrunk down on themselves. 

"A person who abandons their best friend, the friend that saved him multiple times, only to then go and fight someone else's war, is nothing but an ungrateful coward and should be ashamed of themself," Steve said, voice ringing with subdued emotions. "My decision is final."

Peggy noticed that a lot of her coworkers avoided Daniel's eyes.

She was too wrapped up in what was happening to fully appreciate that.

"But after the Sergeant is back on his feet you will come back, right?" Agent Jacobi asked. "With him at your right?"

He sounded so hopeful; no doubt the image of Cap had meant a lot to him during the war.

Steve was less cutting with him, perhaps because he understood that Jacobi didn't speak out of malice, but his eyes were no less forgiving. "Nobody will send Sergeant Barnes out to fight again as long as I'm alive." 

His point apparently made, Steve turned and began to walk away.

"Wait," Thompson called after him, finally collecting his wits. "You still haven't explained how you're alive."

Steve stopped in his tracks, and half-turned back. "I survived because of the serum. I crawled out of the ice and back to society, but it obviously it took a long while to do that."

"What about your uniform?" 

Steve shrugged. "I wanted to make a dramatic entrance, so I got somebody to sew it for me." 

"Who?"

"A gentleman never tells."

Peggy almost huffed at that; almost.

"How did you know about the exact location of the HYDRA facility in Siberia?" 

"On my way back to society I happened to overhear a few HYDRA soldiers talking about it," Steve lied. "I interrogated them and they told me the rest."

It was believable enough that Thompson had nothing to hold against Steve.

Peggy also had so many questions, but she couldn't say anything aloud that would compromise Steve in front of the entire SSR.

She wondered if he could be under the influence of someone like Fennhoff, and while she couldn't outrule the possibility, she had also seen what effect Barnes had on Steve. This was most likely that, amplified to eleven, and there was no power on Earth that would be stronger than this. 

"What do I tell Washington, that I just let you walk out the door?" Thompson demanded when Steve turned away again.

"They should just call Colonel Phillips for advice," Steve said. "Or is it General Phillips now?"

"What about your shield?" 

"You need superhuman strength to wield it, so until you engineer the serum again, I think I should hold on to it," Steve answered over his shoulder. "Good day, agents."

She did not run after him to ask the myriad of questions buzzing in her mind even though she wanted to. But she would talk to him later; she _needed_ to talk to him.

For a moment, for a few weeks after Barnes's return, she had forgotten that this Steve wasn't the old one. She had assumed that Steve would pick the shield up the moment a call came.

She pondered the idea of time travel as she absentmindedly played with the corner of a document. What could've happened to turn the Steve that lied on his enlistment form to get into the army so... resentful of everything to make him want to permanently abandon Cap?

Her stomach clamped up at what that would be. She had seen horrors; she had seen little girls being turned into miniature killing machines, and she had seen whole countries fighting over a piece of worthless land. But children were more impressionable than adults, and power always corrupted politicians -- she couldn't imagine what could corrupt a man as loyal as Barnes or as strong as Steve.

But she would be strong and she would find out.

"You should eat something," Daniel told her in a low voice when he came over with a mug of steaming tea. 

"I don't have the appetite," she said, but smiled at him. 

"You didn't know about his plan?" Daniel asked.

She shook her head. "I knew he wanted a break, but not this. I feel like I never really knew him," she admitted. 

Daniel was quiet for a moment, then he spoke carefully. "Do you think... maybe someone like Fennhoff..."

"No," she sighed. "This part of him was always there, inside. I just never saw it. Nobody did."

Until whatever happened to him happened, she didn't say. And to Barnes.

Daniel hung his head. "Maybe. I hope you're right."

"So am I."

She was prepared to leave the office as soon as time was up, but like Lot’s wife, she made the fatal mistake of looking back and seeing Thompson in his office.

He hadn't said a word all afternoon, even plugged his constantly rigging phone out, and now he was sitting behind his desk with his head in his arms. 

She wanted to roll her eyes at herself, but damn, she couldn't leave like this. Nobody was ever prepared for the full wrath of one Steven Grant Rogers, and nobody except the Nazis should've borne it alone.

"Go home and have a drink, Jack, you deserve it," she told him before he could look up to see who entered his office.

"There's not enough in the whole world for this," Jack said. "Did you put him up to it?"

She couldn't help the snort that escaped her. "I didn't even know about the news until I came in this morning, so no. Besides, Captain Rogers doesn't need encouragement when he wants to speak his mind."

"I noticed," Thompson finally looked up with the expression of a man going up the gallows. "And I suppose he isn't a Captain anymore."

Peggy gritted her jaw, which didn't escape notice.

"You didn't know either," Thompson said. 

"No."

He pursed his lips and ran a hand through his hair. "Well, you did warn me. I just didn't think it was for my sake."

"It was for everybody's sake," Peggy said. "Steve has always believed in doing what he thought was right."

"And nursing his crippled buddy is what he thinks that is now," Thompson said. "While we're still fighting against the USSR." 

Peggy stared him down. "Sergeant Barnes is an honoured war veteran," she said icily. "I suggest you chose your words more wisely."

"You're right; I don't want Rogers to breathe down my neck again. Washington is enough."

Not her point, but she was willing to chose her battles. "Did you call Phillips?"

"Yes; he said Rogers is a dead end and that he'll let the Senators know as well. But I might still get fired for this. Senator Cooper isn't the forgiving type. Couldn't you change Rogers's mind?" 

"There is no person on Earth who could," she said. Except maybe Barnes, but she was not going to reveal that to Thompson; the last thing Barnes needed was Jack going after him and using him to blackmail Steve. 

"At least be careful with him," Thompson said, and there it was: that rare spark in him, a rare flash of compassion that made Peggy dislike him a little less than before. If only it was allowed to surface more often, he might actually be a decent fellow. "I don't believe a word about how he got back. I don't want to lose my best agent to a brainwashed supersoldier."

"You won't."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys, Howard is so fun to write. I don't know why, I don't like him as a *person*, but as a character he's real fun to have running around :D  
> Also we're midway through! Yay!
> 
> ETA: edited some contingency errors, sorry about that!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: period-typical internalized homophobia

“Gentlemen, I’d like one of you to occupy Sergeant Barnes while I have a talk with the Captain,” she told the Howlies the moment she stepped into the lounge area.

She immediately had all eyes on her.

“What happened?” Dum Dum asked.

“I’ve put off getting answers long enough,” she said in lieu of recounting the day’s events.

The men glanced at each other, but blissfully said nothing.

“I’ll come,” Dernier scrambled to his feet. 

“Thank you.”

It was a good thing that they began to integrate Barnes back to the Howlies, she thought, when Barnes showed only a little surprise that Peggy wanted to drag Steve away in exchange for Dernier. He even offered a small smile when Dernier eagerly sat down to play cards with him.

Steve, however, waited until he met Bucky's eyes.

“Is this okay?” he asked.

“Yes,” Barnes said evenly.

“I won’t be far,” Steve promised. 

“You can go as far as you’d like,” Barnes said with an eyeroll, but he also looked relieved at the thought. 

Steve nodded, then led Peggy out of the room and down the corridor.

"Steve–" She began, but Steve shook his head.

They walked farther than she expected; three corners down, to an empty salon.

"His hearing is as good as mine," Steve explained.

Gone was the larger than life captain; instead, an old, tired man stood in front of her.

This wasn’t what she wanted to open with, but the gears quickly turned in her head. "...the serum?" she asked.

"Azzano," Steve nodded. "Zola injected him."

Why did nearly every conversation involving Steve feel like a hit on the head?

She had had no idea. Barnes showed no signs – or maybe she wasn’t looking in the right direction.

"My God,” she said. “Did you know?" 

She felt betrayed. She had thought he trusted her – and the implications, those were even worse than some personal trust issues. If the Soviets had the serum, that was a horrifying possibility, given everything that happened since–

"No," Steve said, and practically fell down onto a chair. "He didn't, either. He suspected, but wasn't sure."

She exhaled, and sat delicately across from him, mind still reeling. 

Then Steve took a deep breath and told her that Zola had personally tortured Barnes and injected him with a cheap knockoff of Steve's serum; that Barnes went through what Steve had but worse, and unwillingly.

She had known this wasn’t going to be easy. She had known to expect the worst, most sickening things, but barely had Steve began talking and she already had to subdue her shaking. 

To think back on the war, it was a miracle Barnes had been functional at all. 

"So you found out… how did you find out?” she asked him, and noticed the change in her voice: no accusation, just shocked curiosity.

Although time travel would have explained that, surely.

What a life she was living to think _time travel_ wasn’t the weirdest of the possibilities.

"Time travel," Steve said, sharing none of her turmoil, and rubbed his face. "I was found in 2011 under the ice; the serum kept me alive.”

She swallowed. Once she accepted time travel, the only explanation was for Steve to have come from the future, and not the past - yet that just left more room for questions.

“Were you conscious?” 

“Only for a little while, thankfully.”

He didn’t say much more about that, but it still wasn’t easy to imagine Steve, alone in the plane with nothing but the bombs and his shield, being conscious and frozen… 

“And then I woke up seventy years later,” Steve went on easily. 

He apparently had time to get used to the idea of that, but she hadn’t.

“In the future,” she said. 

How was this her life. How was this his life?

“Yeah. The future itself was alright, but… waking up there alone was horrible," he let out a wet laugh. "I should've been glad to be alive but I wasn't. Everybody I knew was gone, and I was expected to just move on. And I tried, God knows I tried, but…”

Her heart beat in her throat. She began to understand some of the hardness that she saw in him; some of the losses he had to endure.

“One day, on a mission, I faced someone who could block my punches as if I didn't have the serum, and hit back equally fiercely. And when the mask fell off I realized it was Bucky."

He spoke quickly, as if wanting to get it over with as fast as possible. Anger, wonder and relief flashed over his face. 

"That was when I found out that he had been given the serum, too. He survived the fall from the Alps – the ice kept both of us alive when..."

He shook his head and fell silent.

It hadn’t occured to her how Barnes could have been alive since the night of Steve’s return. Since then, Steve’s behaviour – and indeed, Barnes’s – took precedence over the hows and whys.

Now she zoned in on the most absurd part of the story. 

"He _fought_ you?" she asked. 

She had seen Barnes aiming a gun at Steve with her own two eyes, yes, but that was different than physically attacking him. Time travel was easy to roll with in comparison.

"Yes. HYDRA had found him after he fell from the train. The Soviets first, then he was given to HYDRA; but in any case, he became Zola's pet project. He didn't do, Bucky didn't do any of it willingly," he said firmly, with the conviction and practice of someone having had to say that a lot. "Bucky never would've. But he was brainwashed, his memories were erased, he was tortured, and eventually he was made to be the best assassin the Russians' ever had."

By the end, he was biting down on the words, and she couldn’t blame him. The reality was much worse than anything she could’ve come up with about what it took to break Barnes’s mind. 

His earlier comment about how he knew the serum didn’t prevent the effects of mind-control hit her right in the center of her chest. She couldn’t even imagine what Steve must’ve gone through when he found out – she thought about Fennhoff getting to Daniel, or Angie, or Michael, when he had been alive, and balled her fists.

Too much. This was all too much. 

She tried to push past her emotions and think about it logically: she could see how someone with Barnes's abilities would be useful on any side, even without the superserum.

But she didn't have any doubt about his loyalty; she had seen too much of how he followed Steve's every move without hesitation.

Then the real dreadfulness of the situation dawned on her.

"You said this was after 2011. And all that time..."

"Seventy years," Steve said solemnly. "Or somewhat less; the serum began healing his mind, so they had to freeze him between missions. Which doesn't help at all," he added humorlessly. "That is still trauma."

She had been right earlier; she didn’t want to hear any of this. But she had to. "And how far along is Bucky now? To become Zola's assassin?"

There had to be hope. Barnes was already responding to Steve positively. He was recovering. There was hope.

"Oh, that's not a problem," Steve waved, and she exhaled in relief. "He came back from all of it in the 21st century too. He recognized me, saved me, even. Not even three years later he was fighting by my side again, watching my six," he smiled again; a small smile, but present nonetheless. "He preferred not to, though, and I can't blame him, after everything. He should've... he should've gone home the first chance he got, like a lot of other POWs, with an honorable discharge and pension to last a lifetime. So he retired to a farm, had the peaceful life he deserved... until this intergalactic bully showed up, I dragged him back to fight again, and he died."

That was _not_ how she expected the story to end. She stared at him in shock, and Steve's eyes were cold and red again.

"All his life, all he had ever done was to protect me. And every time it ended with him suffering, dying– and I've had enough. I will not let anything happen to him again."

She understood him, finally, like the last key of a code making the whole thing clear. At the same time, her mind buzzed with all the information. This – all of this – overwhelmed her like nothing in her life ever had. 

"What... what will you do now?" she asked hesitantly.

"Bucky can recover; they didn’t get far with the procedure, and he will recover. I'll help him," Steve said. 

"And then?" 

"Then it's up to him," Steve shrugged. "I'll be there as long as he needs me, whether it's a small place in Brooklyn or a farm somewhere warm."

He didn't understand her question, and she didn't understand why.

"No, I meant what will you do next? After that? Cap–"

"Not Cap," Steve interrupted her. "Cap is gone. I'm only Steve now."

Oh yes, that’s what she had initially wanted to discuss.

She had never been more out of her depth. 

"You wore the uniform," she pointed out, in case he forgot. She needed to lean on the facts that she was sure of, otherwise she’d drown in this new sea of darkness. 

"I hoped it would help him recognize me," Steve said, then sighed. "Peggy, you don't understand what it's like to lose somebody over and over again. I lost him in '44, then I lost him in 2014, and in 2016, and in 2019. All of those were because of Cap; because I had to charge head-first at whoever's ideas I disagreed with the most. I've had enough of that."

This was so Steve and so not-Steve at the same time. 

Steve willing to put everything on the line, risk everything, being unquestionably determined for a cause he believed in – yes. Steve willing to stand to the side, not fighting for the good cause?

"But what about," she said desperately, "everything else?"

He looked at her blankly. "What else?"

"The rest of the _world_?"

"The rest of the world was fine without me," Steve said with an almost-shrug. "It will be even better without the Winter Soldier in the picture – that's what Bucky's codename was. You've done an amazing job, Peggy," he said, suddenly leaning forward, "you've done so much, and will do so much. But the world just never really got better, the _people_ never got better, and I just... got tired of it all. I _am_ tired of it all."

This wasn't her Steve.

Her Steve would never have given up.

How was she supposed to carry on, a mere mortal woman, if the great Steve Rogers gave up so easily?

Or maybe not so easily, but she couldn't imagine what it would take to transform a man once so strong into– but she didn’t need to imagine, did she. She didn’t need to wonder anymore. She knew: it was the loss of Barnes, first to the ice, then to HYDRA, then to this new enemy Steve didn’t name. 

She couldn’t decide if knowing was better or worse than not knowing. 

"I'm sorry," he said, reading her face. "I'm sorry if I'm letting you down."

And he did sound sorry, but not sorry enough to do something about it.

She was collateral damage, just like the rest of the world, as long as he wasn't letting Barnes down.

Suddenly a part of her hated Barnes for how he transformed Steve.

"Will you just stand by and do nothing?" she asked him; demanded, even. "You've always believed in doing the right thing!"

"All my life I've been trying to do the right thing, and it ended up hurting me and those closest to me," Steve said without any emotion. "But no, I will not just stand by– I will hunt HYDRA down as soon as Bucky is okay enough on his own. They need to be purged from this world. I'll also prevent the intergalactic bully from ever being able to harm the world; or at the very least, our world. But I will not save every single individual; that isn't my job.”

Every word reverberated in her bones, rattled in her skull, and she wanted to scream. 

“And in the meantime... in the meantime I'll help Bucky. That is the responsibility I'm taking on from now on. That is the right thing now."

He sounded final; he had thought about it.

But of course he had.

All the fight left her at once. She collapsed back into her seat, and she wanted to sleep for a day or a year and wake up in a better world.

But Steve had done that – will have done that? – and it clearly didn’t help. 

“I know you expected more from me, Peggy, but I’m just one man, and I’m not enough to make the world a better place.” 

“How could we, the rest, do it then?” she asked, exhausted beyond words. 

“You did a good job without me; in fact I sometimes feel like every decision I ever made just made things worse,” he said, equally tiredly. “And T– Howard’s son warned me not to meddle too much. I only want to tweak this timeline without creating an alternate dimension.”

She couldn’t say anything to that, but her empty look must’ve been enough of a prompt for Steve to explain himself.

“Howard’s son is a genius, even smarter than his dad. He built a time-machine to prevent the intergalactic bully from destroying half the universe. You could say I’m here to do that, I’m just taking the scenic route and I’m also saving the one person I let down more than anyone else.”

“You love him,” she said.

She had suspected as much, and despite knowing that nobody talked about it – it was viewed as a sin, and illegal – she had to say it; her mind needed a way to make sense of all of this.

Steve did not get angry; his eyes were just shining with emotion.

“I do,” he said in a heartfelt voice. “God help me, I do – believe it or not, in the future it’s not forbidden. Same-sex marriage is legal. It’s… one of the best things of the 21st century.”

She swallowed, although that, by itself, wasn’t the most surprising thing she’d heard that day. Flawed men create flawed laws, and maybe ruling it illegal was a flaw as well. “And have you… and him…”

She shouldn’t have asked. It was absolutely indecent– 

“Yes,” Steve said. “Not married, but we were together. That Bucky was a different Bucky, though, one I’ll never get back – one I left there, dead, to save his younger self from decades of torture.”

She had never loved anyone enough to imagine sacrificing so much for one person; God, country and a whole life, too, but she has read about it in history books and poetry volumes. 

He would do anything to save his Bucky, and now Peggy understood, and she didn’t resent him anymore.

“What if he doesn’t…” she trailed off.

“He will get better,” Steve said firmly. “And if he doesn’t want me, then I’ll just be his best friend, like always. I… I want him to _live_ , Peggy, and be _happy_ , whatever it takes.”

She nodded, and Steve exhaled, and even smiled at her.

“Please don’t tell him. He needs to recover first. I don’t want to burden him with any of this.”

“No, I won’t,” she agreed. 

She needed to reshape her view of the world. She needed to process everything; that Steve wasn’t as perfect as she had thought, that he wasn’t back to lead her in the creation of a better world. She would need to do that on her own.

And according to Steve, she could.

It would definitely take a toll on Barnes, if he knew. 

“Shall I lead the Commandos to go after HYDRA?” she asked. 

“They’re not an imminent threat. I took out their leading scientists and their main destructive project, and we predicted – Howard’s son, and some experts on the matter – where and when they would try to recuperate. Now they’re small, individual units in the wind, and it’s better to wait and catch them all. They can’t do much damage as it is. Bucky’s recovery shouldn’t take longer than a few months, which gives us enough time.” 

At least there was a silver lining in this. 

“...but,” he went on, tentatively, “if you hear anything from Zola, do let me know.”

The cold threat was unmistakable in his voice, and she didn’t blame him. 

“I don’t know what happened to him after the war. Do you think he escaped?” 

Steve blinked at him in surprise. “Oh no, he didn't have to. The government recruited him to benefit from his expertise, and he maneuvered his plan on the sidelines. That’s not something I’ll let him do this time.”

She closed her eyes.

Of course. Of course a man with his expertise would be hired. So was Fennhoff, after all, to the SSR, and even she had been on board with that. 

She will need to do better in the future.

“I’ll pull some strings,” she said, not wanting Zola to roam around any more than he did. “But Bucky’ll want to go with you. He won’t let you go after his torturers alone.”

Steve’s face fell, but he shook his head. “If he does, he can. I won’t take his choice away from him, and besides, HYDRA isn’t something I’m worried about now.”

 _Good for him,_ she thought bitterly, but then, as she looked at into his crestfallen eyes and droopy limbs, she realized that it wasn’t good for him. Steve was only doing what the thought was best, in the direst of situations, and if that was _this_ … 

Then she would do what she could to help him prevent that dire situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, the R E V E L A T I O N  
> This was my original chapter 4, but I realized Steve wouldn't leave Bucky alone back then just to explain this to Peggy, so I had to put it in here.  
> Normally I prefer the author to stay dead, but alas, I've risen from the grave and edited out some continuity errors. The story should flow better now :)  
> Hope you like it!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for some body horror and physical pain (more details in the after notes)  
> because who doesn't love some dark hurt/comfort?

She collapsed into Daniel’s arms the next day after work.

“What happened?” he asked worriedly.

So she told him. Most of it. Not the part about Steve loving Barnes; but how much the future changed Steve. How he didn’t want to do… he didn’t want to help the world anymore.

“I was ready to do it alone when he went missing,” she finished. “But now…”

“It’s worse because you thought you had it back,” Daniel agreed.

“It frightens me that part of me understands him,” Peggy said. “I want to lie down and do nothing because it never seems to make a difference.”

“Why don’t you?”

“Because if nobody does, then truly nothing will change,” she said, fire returning to her voice. “And if I’m the most effective in doing whatever needs to be done, then I have to.”

“In my book that makes you more like Captain America than Steve is,” Daniel said. She smiled at him and felt her cheeks flush.

“Don’t ever tell him you said that,” she warned. “He will agree.”

Getting it off her chest made the whole ordeal much more bearable. She also shared half of it with Angie, masking the details as confidential but trusting her to intuit the rest. With her it would be less about stopping that intergalactic evil and more about handling this new Steve, anyway.

“How do _you_ feel?” Angie asked when Peggy, done, sipped a cup of warm tea to help her croaky voice. “This has been nothing but ‘Steve feels’ and ‘Steve thinks’ and none about _you._ ”

“Lighter,” Peggy admitted. “I was so angry at him; but now I’m calm. If I have to do it, then I will.”

It hit her that maybe she hadn’t gotten the full effect of waking up in a different time, alone. Peggy had Daniel and Angie, and the Commandos for help as well, and sure, it was dangerous to share information, but she didn’t have to do it alone.

Of course Steve wouldn’t want to give Barnes up again after just briefly having him back.

Maybe Peggy would have done the same in his place.

“Attagirl,” Angie said. “Let me know if I can help.”

Peggy squeezed her hand thankfully.

A blood-boiling scream roused her from her sleep a few days later. She grabbed her gun and dashed out to the hallway only to immediately collide with half the Commandos in various sleeping gears.

"Was that Sarge?" Gabe asked with ashen face.

"I hope not," Peggy said, and they rushed towards Steve and Barnes's suite.

She let the men check the nearby rooms and watch her back, and she went straight to the door and burst inside with her gun raised.

Nobody was in their living room, but one of the bedroom doors were open down the hallway, and inhuman, agonizing whines emerged from there. She sprinted there with fear in her throat.

Barnes was huddled at the foot of the bed, shrieking at– his own left arm? And Steve, by his side, was trying to restrain him from scratching his own limb off.

"What–"

"Get Howard!" Steve ordered, not looking up.

"What happened?"

"NOW!"

She turned on her heel, and was unmeasurably thankful for the fact that Howard happened to be in the city; and also that she could get out of earshot. The noises Barnes made... whatever happened to have left someone with superhuman abilities in such a state, she did not want to experience herself.

It took three phone calls to get ahold of Howard, and then another more to get him a cab. Most of the Commandos stood watch from the doorstep.

She walked in to find Steve cradling Barnes in his lap while Gabe held onto his bloody right with bruising force.

"He'll be here in fifteen minutes," she reported, and crouched down to them. "What happened?"

"His arm, his left arm," Steve whispered. He did not touch the prosthetic itself, only the skin on Barnes's shoulder. "Something's causing him pain."

The left arm showed no outer signs of damage, but the right was definitely bleeding.

"His right?"

"Tore his own nails off when he tried to pry the metal off," Gabe said.

The whites of Barnes's eyes were clearly visible in the dim room. They darted around frantically, his labored breathing emphasizing his pain, but he didn't even flinch when Steve brushed the sweaty strands of his hair out of his face.

"He's withdrawing from the pain into his mind," Steve said, and his voice broke on the last syllable.

Peggy jumped to her feet and rushed for a towel and a bowl of water.

"He'll be alright," she said, and left Steve to do the actual part of cleaning Barnes's face.

"You don't know that," Steve said between wipes. "I didn't know this was going to happen."

Despite his anger, his movements remained ever so gentle.

They counted down the minutes between Barnes's shakes and the ticking clock on the nightstand.

"What's the emergency?" Howard's voice came a few seconds before the man himself arrived at the door. "Cap? Sarge?"

"You need to disassemble his left arm," Steve said. "Get it off of him."

Howard's face fell. "Last time I tried to touch it he wanted to shoot me, so I'm not sure–"

"I'll hold him down," Steve said, steel and despair coloring his voice in equal measure. "HYDRA must've put something inside, a poison or something, and it's hurting him."

"Painkillers?" Peggy suggested as she got to her feet.

"What works on us hasn't been developed yet," Steve said.

Barnes had, blissfully, blacked out from the pain. Steve lifted him gently into his arms and carried him to the kitchen, to the huge table in the middle. Peggy admired his thinking; the overhead light was sharp and Barnes could be reached from all sides at waist-level.

But maybe he had to do this before, she realized as Steve used his own belt to secure Barnes's legs to the table.

Gabe gave his own belt for the right arm, and Steve stood over Barnes's head, hands over Barnes's shoulders. His face... his face was worse than what Peggy had ever seen.

If this was only a fraction of the pain he had felt when he made the decision to travel back to the past, then she completely understood why he did it.

Howard packed his tools out to the counter.

"Go," Steve told Peggy and Gabe. "You don't want to hear this."

Peggy met Gabe's eyes, and they nodded at once in understanding.

"You may need help," Gabe said.

"We're not leaving you alone."

Steve didn't have the strength to say anything, just nodded sadly.

"I have no idea what I'm supposed to be doing," Howard said when he began examining the metal arm.

"The shoulder panels should open up, and you can find the detach-mechanism on the inside," Steve said flatly.

"It looks like it's built into his flesh," Howard said, not without worry.

"It is; you may have to rip it out. It also attaches to the neurons of his brain and his spine, which is reinforced with metals. I think that part has screws as well."

Bile rose in Peggy's throat, and all the blood left Gabe's. Howard paled as well.

"You cannot be serious," he said. "No human would survive that."

"He has a version of Erskine's serum, recreated by Zola," Steve said. "You won't kill him if you detach the arm, but it will hurt him – but whatever's inside the arm might kill him, so _please_ , help him."

Peggy had to give credit to Howard for shaking himself and nodding. "Alright. Shoulder panel?"

He took a screwdriver to Barnes's shoulder, and Steve steadied himself.

The first touch of the metal on the panels had Barnes waking with a terrified scream, and Steve had to put all his weight onto his shoulders to keep him from trashing. Gabe darted for his right arm, and held that down because the leather belt creaked ominously.

"It's okay, Buck, you're still with me, I'm Steve, but your arm is hurting you, we need to do something, I'm sorry, Buck–"

She didn't know how much he understood, if any; but maybe Steve's mantra was more for himself anyway.

"I need a smaller screwdriver!" Howard shouted over the screams.

Peggy leapt and handed him one, and the first shoulder panel clanked on the tiles what felt like an eternity later.

Steve had to use all his weight to keep Barnes down at that point, but at least his left arm was immobilized from whatever HYDRA had done to it.

"I'm so sorry, Buck, but we have to do it," Steve kept saying, and the tears ran down his nose and dripped down into Barnes's hair.

Peggy held a flashlight over Howard's shoulder so that he could see inside the arm, and the image burned into her memory as well. To see what they had done to Barnes, this robotic part they had attached...

"There!" Howard exclaimed and tweaked something inside, and the whole arm popped and rotated a bit.

"You got it?" Gabe asked hopefully, still wrestling with the slippery and sticky form blood right arm.

"Not yet," Howard said. "I can't detach it!"

"You can," Steve said – _begged_. "Just pull it out!"

"If we damage the wires, it may never be useful again!"

"So he'll live without his arm, but he'll _live_!" Steve cried out. "Please!"

Howard gave his tools to Peggy, and then grabbed and jerked on the arm once, twice, and then it separated fully from the shoulder with a sickening tearing of wires and creaking metal sounds.

Barnes let out one final, hoarse cry, then fell back to the table, unconscious.

His shoulder still had the metal cover, and the wires were hanging out like dead veins and arteries. Howard put the separated arm aside and looked at the stump.

"Whatever was doing that, I don't think it's here," he said after a few minutes. "I'll examine the full arm – did you notice that faint smell?"

Peggy and Gabe hadn't, but Steve nodded.

"Something must've caused a reaction with the materials used in his arm," Howard said, already focusing on the prosthetic. "I'll find out what it is and how to get rid of it."

Steve nodded again. Peggy and Gabe helped him get rid of the belts, which have left burning red marks on Barnes's skin. Steve wiped Barnes's face with a wet towel again, and then lifted him into his arms and carried him back to the bedroom to leave room for Howard and his examinations.

Peggy noticed that she herself was shaking and sweating, which meant that Steve couldn't have been in a better state either. She put herself together and followed them, while Gabe stayed behind explained the proceedings to the worried Commandoes.

Barnes was laying under the covers, but even inn his unconscious state he had sweat and red lines on his face.

Steve knelt by his bedside with his head in his hands.

"Are you praying?" she whispered.

"No. If there's a God, he doesn't care about Bucky," Steve's voice was croaky too. "I read his files, what they've done to him, and there was nothing about anything like this in them. There were mechanical errors, but only later on."

All Steve's earlier certainty had evaporated.

"You got him away, which may have changed things," she said. "Doesn't mean we can't fix it."

"See what I mean? He always suffers because of me," Steve huffed, and when he looked up at Barnes, she saw that he was still crying.

"You saved him of decades of torture," Peggy said, and laid a hand onto Steve's shoulder. Steve leaned into her touch, seeking the comfort.

"Thank you. For your help," he whispered.

"Anytime," she promised. "Rest, Steve. You're no use to him when you're exhausted too."

Steve nodded, but stayed where he was. "I'll watch over him a little longer," he said, and she left him to it.

When she got back there to check on them in the morning, after tossing and turning before finally succumbing to a few hours of restless sleep, she found Steve fast asleep in an armchair, guarding Barnes even in his sleep. Barnes himself faced away from him, curled on his side and hugging his body with his right arm. She couldn't tell if he was awake or not.

Steve woke up the second she stepped into the room; Barnes didn't even twitch.

"Any news?" Steve asked hoarsely.

"Howard says he'll let us know when he finds something."

He closed his eyes and let his head fall back to the headrest.

She wished she had something helpful to offer instead of meaningless words which she kept to herself.

"I'll get some food," Steve sighed. "Buck, is it okay if I leave you with Peggy?"

Barnes _was_ awake, then. He still didn't move, but he let out a slightly louder breath than before, which Steve took as a yes.

"I'll be right back," he said, and squeezed Peggy's arm as he went past.

She sat down onto the armchair he vacated. "How are you?"

Barnes didn't answer for a while; long enough that Peggy thought he never would. Then he suddenly turned onto his back to stare at the ceiling with empty eyes.

"Did I kill anybody?" he whispered and swallowed.

She was taken aback. "What? When?"

"I remember... I remember strangling someone. With my... left hand. I..."

"No," Peggy said. "You only hurt yourself."

His eyes flickered to her uncertainly.

"Why did you take my arm then?"

Oh, Lord.

"It was hurting you," Peggy said. "Something's wrong with it. You’ve hurt your right hand when you tried to take it off."

Barnes looked at his nails, and Steve had cleaned the dried blood off, but the damage was still visible. Noting this, his head fell back onto the pillow.

"I thought..." he began, but shook his head. "Older memory, then."

What was there to say to that?

"Howard will figure out what went wrong with your arm," she promised. "You'll get it back."

"And then I might strangle someone else," Barnes said darkly. "Maybe even Steve."

She thought it was intended as a joke, but it showed more honest fears than intended.

"You wouldn't hurt Steve."

"I already have. I turned on him and almost shot him."

"Listen to me," she leaned forward, and Barnes flinched, and she cursed herself. "That wasn't you. That was what HYDRA did to you. I know you, Serg– _Bucky_. Your first priority has always been Steve, and nothing can take that away. He's still your first worry, even now."

The gathered tears in his eyes overflew at that, and he didn't move to hide them.

"I'm hurting him," he wheezed. "I'm supposed to be protecting him, I–" he choked.

She moved very slowly, and extended an arm that found his hand and squeezed it reassuringly. He winced, but then gripped hers back like his life depended on it.

"You've been protecting him all his and your life," she said. "From what I heard, he wouldn't be here without you at all. Let him return the favor."

He couldn't stifle his sobs anymore, and she held his one good hand through the shakes.

"Promise me," he begged, when he was able to speak, "promise that you won't let me hurt him?"

Oh _God_.

He couldn't have been implying what she thought he was.

"Carter, I can't– please tell me you'll stop me?"

"That won't happen," she said desperately.

"I can't live if he– if I– please!"

She didn't know what he needed to hear more, the reassurance or the protest, but she knew which one _she_ needed to say. "It will not come to that! I know you, and you always protect him, even from yourself," she took a deep breath. "And don't think for a moment that he'd be able to carry on without you, either!"

He did not answer, but eventually his stifled hiccups evened out and his tears dried up. He let her hand go to wipe his face, and she did the same – she hadn't realized she'd started crying too.

"Sorry," he mumbled, and she shook her head.

"It's okay. You're a good man, Bucky."

He teared up again, but he swallowed his tears back. "You're not bad yourself, Carter."

"Peggy," she said, and that, finally, elicited a wet smile from him.

By the time Steve came back, only Bucky's red-rimmed eyes and the horrible memory remained of their little conversation. Steve put a tray full of food down to the bedside table, and greeted Bucky with a wide, if tired, smile.

"Hey, you're back," he said.

"I never left," Bucky rolled his eyes, making Steve practically beam.

"How's your arm? Does it hurt?"

Bucky swallowed and shook his head. He forced himself up, leaning on only one arm before he scooted back to the headboard. Steve sat down to the side of the bed, and Peggy suddenly felt like she was intruding.

"I'm fine," Bucky said.

"Please tell me the truth," Steve asked.

Bucky closed his eyes. "My right does, but it's healing. There's... not real pain in my left, where the arm used to be."

"Phantom pain," Steve said. "That's normal, and it means that what caused the pain got removed."

Bucky nodded tiredly, and Steve lifted a black piece of clothing.

"I could bandage up the wires," Steve offered. "If you'd like."

Bucky opened his eyes and stared at Steve with tortured eyes.

"Okay," he said.

He braced himself; went still like a statue when Steve reached for his left side.

"Let me," Peggy said. "I'm already here."

Steve blinked at her in surprise, then looked at Bucky for the decision.

Bucky met her eyes for a moment then nodded.

Steve handed her the kerchief. It meant that he could stay sitting by Bucky's side, and grab Bucky's hand as Peggy leaned down and gently tied the cloth around the exposed wires, tucking them in, hiding them from the world.

Bucky exhaled shakily when she was done, his hand clamping down to Steve's with bruising force, but he did offer a weak smile to her.

"Good as new," she said. "You should both eat and rest."

"Yes, ma'am," Bucky said, if not with his old charm, but at least with heart, and Steve huffed out a wet laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPOILERS: bucky's arm is hurting him and they have to detach it. some blood and a lot of suffering involved. mentions of more trauma and gore than what actually happens. also slight temporary memory issues.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW internalized and external ableism

Howard took the metal arm with him to his lab for testing after he concluded that the core was unstable, leaving Bucky with only one arm, but one that certainly wouldn’t blow up or melt down.

After a few days Bucky showed up at breakfast by Steve's side, of course, with an uneven stance and an even more uneven smile, but Peggy's heart mirrored Steve's smile: it was an important step ahead.

After Steve had burst into the SSR to give a piece of his mind to Thompson, Peggy essentially went back to his good books as well. Not only was she back on active cases, but on actually interesting ones, including one that kept her on a covert operation in Jersey for three days straight. She almost got thrown out of a window once, and got shot at three times, but it was so, so worth it: the intel she recovered (some secret files but also a confession from an apprehended weapons' smuggler) meant that the SSR was able to close in on an underground smuggling organization that supported the Russians.

The best part of that mission was finally sneaking into Daniel's apartment and all but collapsing into his arms. The worst was writing out the report because she realized that the SSR could’ve cracked down on the smugglers months ago, had they had the proper resources and agents who did their job properly.

She underlined that part especially in the report, and suggested a new resource division for Thompson – most likely in vain, but it was worth a shot. They needed to do better if they wanted to win this new kind of war.

Peggy was the one to find a letter addressed to Steve, and she delivered it dutifully – and curiously, given that the sender appeared to be a government organization.

Steve read it with increasingly furrowing brows, then sighed and crumpled it into a ball.

"Bad news?" she asked.

"Our request for backpay has been denied," Steve said, and with a sigh he went back to what he must have been doing before she came in, which was mending the buttons on his coat.

"What?" she said, but her eyes turned to Bucky, sitting on the couch, doing his best emotionless stare at his one remaining hand. “Why?”

"They cited some made-up reasons based on technicalities – that we were assumed dead and the like.”

"That's incredibly unfair," she said, turning back to him.

“I don't think they can deny it forever, but they will do their best to delay paying us."

“Possibly,” she agreed. “But as long as they give in eventually…”

“I will make them,” Steve said strongly.

"Steve," Bucky asked, desperately, "how will we make a living?"

The question burst out of him with such despair that Peggy had no doubt that the issue had been on his mind for a while now.

"We will," Steve said confidently. "I'll have a word with the superior of whoever typed up this letter, just... not now."

 _Not while I need to be with you_ , Peggy – and most likely Bucky – understood loud and clear.

Bucky shook his head and rubbed his eye with his one arm. "No, I... pension is not enough. And I can't... Steve–"

Steve grabbed Bucky's hand, and Peggy's heart broke by the way they looked at each other: two hopeless, lost boys who wanted the best for each other.

"You _can_ work, Buck. If you want to, but you won't _have_ to. I can make a living for the both of us, don't worry."

Bucky shook his head even more vehemently, and Peggy noticed that his hair had gotten so much longer than before; it fell into his eyes.

"You can't do that, Steve. You shouldn't work at the docks, your health–" but he cut himself off, looking at Steve with wide, scared eyes.

Steve's face fell, but he propelled himself through it.

"I won't work there," he said softly. "But I can see well now, I can become a real artist. Illustrating books, signs, interiors, whatever they want. Or I can do construction and renovation – nothing big," he added, when Bucky opened his mouth to interrupt him, "just small stuff, small scale. But I'm strong now, and I can put that to good use."

"I'm strong too," Bucky whispered.

"See? You can help me. Even with one arm you can do so much," Steve smiled. "And, besides all of that, I have a… very good hunch now about where we can invest our money. We can get some extra income that way, too."

Steve's eyes jumped to Peggy for a moment, and she understood – if he came from the future, he would know so many ways to make money.

"You never had a good hunch in your life," Bucky countered.

"I do now," Steve promised. "We'll be alright, Bucky, just trust me."

Bucky closed his eyes for a moment. "I do, but..."

"I'm the star spangled man with the plan, remember?" Steve asked, and that, finally, teased a small smile out of Bucky.

Peggy started her morning in Thompson's office, reporting her newest findings about breaking a new code nobody else was able to figure out.

"Nice job, Marge," Thompson said, and she couldn't quite suppress a small smile. The Thompson of the past would've swallowed his tongue before complimenting Peggy on anything, but alas, he hadn't been such a lost cause after all.

"I expect you'll send the memo out with the results?" She asked.

"Yeah. This could change the game for the FBI as well."

Peggy nodded; that's why she’d done it.

"When's your marriage?" Thompson asked, and Peggy halted.

"Pardon me?"

"You, Sousa, tying the knot," Thompson said, and Peggy narrowed her eyes.

"I'm sorry to say that's none of your business, Jack."

"It is, though, because you'll retire, right?"

Peggy blinked, then blinked twice more in quick succession. "What makes you think that?"

To that, it was Thompson who needed a few seconds of mental recalibration. "Well. It's what women do, isn't it?"

Peggy closed her eyes and sighed. "Jack, do you _really_ think that I will just _quit_ all of this to do… what, instead?" She gestured around herself. "I helped building the SSR and this place especially. I won't just leave it all behind like it meant nothing. And before you even start, yes, Daniel knows this as well."

Thompson closed his mouth. "Oh. Okay."

"Good."

"Good."

They stared at each other, or more precisely, Peggy stared down at him, and not only because he was sitting behind his desk and she was standing.

"By the way, I didn't presume Sousa didn’t know," Jack said, earning a few good points in her book. "Just that, you know... we don't have married women in the office."

"Not yet," Peggy said.

A true, close-minded shame. To force men to work and women to stay at home only limited everybody's chances at success and happiness, especially if the US was competing with a country that saw the value in using stereotypes to their advantage.

No wonder Barnes was so miserable, too, at the thought of not being able to provide, something which had been drilled into him from birth.

Peggy paused mid-thought and refocused on Thompson.

"Putting my marriage aside, would you happen to know anything about why Captain Rogers's request for backpay was refused?"

Thompson pulled his shoulders up. "I had _nothing_ to do with that."

Why was that always his first go-to? Peggy rolled her eyes. "Yes, but _who_ did?"

She was fairly certain that Steve wouldn't mind her nosing around. After all, he said he would, too, and whatever plans of investment Steve had, those surely wouldn't have a short-term return – the sooner they got this show on the road, the better.

"I don't know anything about this, _officially_ ," Thompson said. "But unofficially, Senator Cooper paid me a visit after his chat with Phillips."

 _Of course_ he did, why was she even surprised.

"What happened?"

"Look," Thompson shifted uncomfortably, "he was pissed that Rogers refused to cooperate with us. He wanted to persuade him, and he wanted to know where he was staying."

"And?"

"And I didn't tell him anything," Thompson said. "Rogers bursting in here once was more than enough. So Cooper started spewing threats and then stormed out; it's not hard to imagine that ended in him denying the money."

"Not at all," Peggy agreed, and when Jack still looked shifty, she went on. "It's not your fault, Steve won't come after you."

"Of course it wasn't," Thompson said, but he did look relieved.

"He might go after Cooper, though."

"You can borrow equipment from the lab if you videotape that meeting for me. You even get some extra days off," Jack offered, and she couldn't hide her laugh.

"The good news is that I found out what happened to your arm," Howard said, and he put the prosthetic in question on the table.

It looked really sad as it sat there, unmoving and limp. Even the light didn't dance on the metal like it used to.

Bucky clenched his jaw and hugged his abdomen with his right arm. Steve stood close enough so that their shoulders touched.

"What is it?" Peggy asked.

"First off, their technology is really something else. I've never seen anything like this – brand new materials and methods, cutting edge tech–"

"Howard," Steve interrupted sternly.

"– which means that all of it is untested. They used an unusual combination for the core; they tried to lighten the steel base with a gas mixture, because it would've been way too heavy for the spine and the body otherwise."

He looked at Bucky apologetically, who couldn't look away from the arm. Steve leaned towards him a bit more.

"It still was heavy, of course, but not as bad as it could've been. But the gas solution wasn't stable enough and when the chain reaction began, it melted some of the wires, which were also a special alloy to allow the neurons to control them – that's why it was causing you pain and why eventually you lost control over it."

"Why now? What started the chain reaction?" Steve asked.

"I'm not 100% sure, but if I had to guess, I'd say heat. It's much warmer in here than in Siberia, and one of the components has a low activating point, which correlates to the current average temperatures over here."

Bucky's fingers dug into his side. Steve just looked very, very pale.

"I didn't know," Steve said. "That it could–"

"We still don't know for sure," Howard hurried to reassure him. "It's just a guess–"

"They kept me cold," Bucky interrupted them, and every time the horrible emptiness returned to his eyes, Peggy's heart sank. "My cell– there was ice everywhere..."

Steve looked even more helpless than Bucky; torn between guilt and even more guilt, no doubt.

"You are in warmth now," Peggy broke the silence. "Even if it means the loss of your arm, Steve couldn't have just left you there."

Bucky shook himself and burrowed even more into the plaid shirt that Peggy could've sworn she had seen on Steve before. "Yeah," he said, and took a deep breath. "Yeah."

He even smiled up at Steve, albeit faintly, but it was enough to get a watery smile in return, and Steve drew him close in a one-armed hug.

"Yes. That could've been deliberate or just a coincidence, we'll never now," Howard said. "So, that was the good news. The bad news is that we can't restore this exact model because we'd run into the same problem of weight. But! We can build a new model with better materials."

"Can you do that?" Bucky asked hopefully.

"With time," Howard said. "A lot of time, and I’m talking months, maybe years here. The wires are especially tricky, and of course we have to find a lightweight material for the base, too..."

A thoughtful expression crossed Steve's face, which immediately raised Peggy’s suspicion. But all he said was, "And if you do, that can revolutionize prosthetics. Not only for Bucky, but every vet who lost a limb, and everyone else, too."

Howard looked at him in surprise. "What? Yes, yes, of course! This arm could be the solution to prosthetics – we just have to make very sure that it's safe. Your physiology, I mean, this arm couldn't function with just any human being – and the chain reaction would definitely have killed most people but you and Steve."

Steve just held Bucky even tighter at that.

When Peggy wanted to have a word with Steve, she no longer needed to get one of the Commandos to look after Bucky. Firstly, because the Howlies spent a lot of time with him anyway, rediscovering each other and becoming friends again. Bucky may not have remembered everything, and he had days when he couldn't recall his own name, but even then he had a lot of people willing to sit with him in the silence, or in soft jazz songs, drink hot chocolate and just breathe together. Steve encouraged this behavior, said some things about social bridges and not letting Bucky wander around in his own head alone, and even without Peggy understanding all of it, she agreed with him too.

Secondly, though, Bucky needed less and less such looking after. He began to almost instinctively search for company when he needed to, but he also took to curling up on a couch with a book, or tweaking with a broken wireless for hours, and even knitting. Steve had showed him how to do it with one hand after strongly hinting that he could use a warm scarf from the nice balls of yarn that somehow ended up on the table one day, and nothing else was needed as encouragement.

(Peggy secretly applauded Steve's newfound sneakiness and subtlety.)

Thus Steve could sleep better, knowing that Bucky was improving with every day, and Peggy could simply sit down with him while Bucky was immersed in getting Dum Dum to meld some wires together in the other room.

"Dogs?" Peggy asked, noting that Steve was reading a book about dog breeds, of all things.

"If he's okay with it, I want to get Bucky a dog," Steve said. "Animals can be extremely therapeutic. Cats especially; their purring is very beneficial. But Buck's always been a dog person."

"I can see how a dog would be good for him," Peggy agreed.

"I want a Golden Retriever, maybe, but I realized dog breeds now aren't exactly what they will be in a few decades," Steve sighed. "But we have time; I don't really want to bring a dog into this place."

There was a lot of wisdom in that, and not only because of the Commandos and Howard.

"That's exactly what I wanted to talk to you about," Peggy said, and at Steve's raised eyebrow, she explained what she had learned about Senator Cooper from Thompson.

Steve leaned back in his armchair with a contemplating expression.

"That explains a lot, and saves us time – now I don't have to figure out who's behind all the meddling."

"I could try to reason with him," Peggy offered, but Steve snorted.

"Men like him can't be reasoned with. But thank you – you have done so much for me. For us. And thank Thompson too, maybe that'll soothe his ego."

It was Peggy's turn to snort. "It will not, believe me. And you have a plan; out with it."

Steve stifled a smile. "Since the Senator is so eager to talk to me, I might ask him to visit me somewhere around here and help him realize why supporting war veterans is actually really beneficial for him."

"Would you like me to be there?" Peggy asked, not purely for Steve's sake. Thompson had a point about such a conversation to be worth witness to.

"I'd love to," Steve replied, "but I don't think it would be wise."

"Since when do you care about wise," Peggy scoffed, and decided she needed some wine for this.

"Since I'll most likely say some things that he won't like, and I don't want him to come after you, which he will if he sees you standing right by my side."

"I can take care of myself."

"I have no doubt about that, Peggy, and I've learned to ask for your help whenever I need it. However, this is something that I want to do on my own."

She poured herself a glass of wine and took a long swallow before she answered.

"Fine. But you'll have to tell me everything."

Cooper jumped on a plane eagerly when Steve left a message for him; they met up at a private room in a restaurant (booked by Howard, of course), and Peggy stayed awake well into the night, just reading in the living room, waiting to hear the news.

Steve wore his stormiest expressions when he entered but did smile at her immediately.

"We got our backpay," he said.

"You can't leave me only with that," Peggy protested as she put her book down.

"I need a drink first," Steve said, and went for the strongest whiskey they had. He offered Peggy a glass, too.

"Only a little," Peggy conceded – she had work in a few hours, but a sip wouldn't hurt.

Steve chugged a whole glass down, then poured another before he gave Peggy hers.

"That bad?"

"He tried to blackmail me with Bucky," Steve said. Peggy inhaled sharply, and decided that yes, alcohol was much needed for this conversation. "I don't know how he found out about Bucky's arm, but he does know, and he said some of the most vile things I have ever heard – that Bucky'll never get his backpay, that he'll never get a job because Cooper will make sure of that, and... I can't recount all of it."

Steve fell silent, and then drank the rest of his glass again.

"I had a friend who had mead that worked on me, I wish I still got that," he sighed wistfully.

Peggy leaned over and squeezed his hand in consolidation. Daniel faced similar insults, and so did many people – Peggy hated that the world was this way.

"Anyway, he wanted me to be Cap again in exchange for 'help' with Bucky... I almost punched him."

"I applaud your restraint," she said honestly. If someone spoke of Daniel that way to her...

"You shouldn't," Steve said darkly. "I ended up threatening him instead."

"Oh? With what?"

"D'you remember how I became Cap?" Steve asked.

She nodded. "You declared yourself as one."

"Exactly. And the military had to ignore a lot of rules when they realized they could use me to boost morale on the front – like the fact that I hadn't spent enough years in service or that I had only been a private before. Or that the way they accepted me into the program was after I lied on my enlistment form like, four times."

"Oh," Peggy said, seeing where this was going.

"Yeah. Cooper either didn't know this or just didn't care, but I let him know in no uncertain terms that should he come after us again, deny us our rights or try to blackmail me, then I will tell Cap's backstory to _everybody_."

Steve leaned back in his seat, and Peggy was very familiar with the cold flames burning in his eyes. He had the same expression when he marched into Austria, and Siberia, and – she assumed – when he decided to travel back in time.

Bucky, it was always Bucky.

"I will go on radio shows, I will tell the evening news, I will write a book and give it away for free," Steve continued steadily. "There will be no soul in America who won't know that Captain America wasn't a real captain, that he was never trained besides boot camp, that he had no real authority to do what he did. That he had the first integrated unit under his hand, and he operated outside the chain of command because he refused to follow orders."

That was no small threat when the nation was freshly out of an open war and in the middle of another, more covert one where Captain America was still used to help people cope and find their way in a new world.

"I take it he wasn't very happy about that," Peggy said.

"He cursed at me left and right and kept insulting me," Steve shrugged. "But he knows what's best for him."

That was, at least, one less problem on the table, she supposed.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> emotional hurt and hard discussions all the way, folks!

Thompson sent Peggy on an undercover mission to a theatre. They suspected that a supporting actor was a smuggler, trying to find a buyer for a dangerous chemical that would paralyze people instantly, and it was up to Peggy to blend in, play an unassuming upcomer actress, and get the formula.

The biggest obstacle was that they barely had any intel on the suspect and the drug, and so Peggy needed to do even more improvising on the spot than usual.

It wasn't a very complicated mission, and in fact she had plenty of time (while she had nothing better to do than to sit around and wait, which a lot of her assignments tended to include) to think. The SSR was rather unfit to facilitate this kind of mission; they had been built to support open warfare, not this lurking in the shadows, preventing conflict before it escalates kind of deal they now were faced with. For instance, they failed to tell Peggy anything about the play, or how the drug needed to be contained – it was 'we got a word, go and see'. 

Not really Thompson's fault, either. He was stuck with bureaucracy and agents from the stone age who didn't have any idea where to begin asking around or how to file notes effectively. So during the full week Peggy spent pretending to be a silly blonde girl in awe of the suspect's (frankly mediocre) acting skills, she made a mental list of how the SSR could be revised, which she planned on discussing with Daniel and Jack.

Hopefully she'd get a free hand, because things needed to be improved, and fast.

Her point was underlined when it turned out that the guy with the drug was not one of the supporting actors, but the janitor, and the drug itself couldn't even paralyze a rat, let alone a human.

Seriously. They needed better intel, more men on the streets, and preferably a web of agents. This way they were never going to be able to keep up against the Russians.

When she got back to Howard’s house, she found it – only figuratively, thank God – on fire. One could cut the air, it was so filled with tension, and everybody walked – no; _sneaked_ around with drawn-up shoulders, waiting for the ground to explode. Half of the Commandos were nowhere to be found, and Gabe told her in a hushed voice that they decided to take a break instead of dealing with the war zone.

"What on Earth happened?" she asked, and Gabe flinched from her loud voice.

"Cap and Sarge had an argument," he whispered. "And please, for the love of all holy things, lower your voice."

She could hardly believe her ears. She had never, _ever_ seen them argue, especially not nowadays. That was even stranger than the Commandos leaving.

"Howard said he found the solution to the wires, so now all he needed to do was to find a material for the arm itself," Gabe explained after a little bit of prompting. "The same day that they got a letter that their request for backpay was accepted and they would be paid shortly."

"Sound good so far," Peggy said warily, in a dutifully low voice.

"So Steve asked Bucky if he wanted to go look for an apartment, but they ended up shouting at each other. Apparently Steve told Howard to use his shield for the new arm, and Bucky didn't like that. He..." Gabe took a deep breath to brace himself, and Peggy copied him. "I've never seen him like this, not even before everything. But he told Cap he wasn't gonna accept the arm or move in, and no matter how many times Steve's gone to his door to talk to him, Bucky didn’t budge. So Steve's been miserable, we haven't seen them together in days, we don't even know if they're eating properly..."

Peggy sighed.

"Sarge looks ready to kill anyone who so much at looks at his way," Gabe went on. "It's so much worse than when he didn't remember who his was. That wasn't him, but this? He knows exactly what he's doing."

Peggy had doubts about that. Unless Bucky knew the full extent of Steve's feelings, he had no idea how much this must've hurt Steve. But she also understood Bucky, to some extent: hearing that Steve was willing to part with his shield jarred her to the core. It finalized things in a way that Steve's words, his insistence that he was done with being Cap, simply hadn't.

Only the whole house was caught in the crossfire.

"Has he relapsed?"

"No," Gabe said. "As much as we can tell, at least."

"That's good," Peggy said. "Small mercies."

"Yes. We thought you– I mean, could you maybe–"

"Clean up this mess?" she arched an eyebrow.

"I don't mean it like that," Gabe protested. "But at least tell us what to do, if you have any ideas?"

"Act normal," Peggy replied instantly. "You're just making it worse if you also believe this is the end of the world. And I'll check up on them but deal with the rest tomorrow. I just finished a tiring mission, and I don't have the energy for either of them tonight."

Famous last words, she thought when she found Steve fast asleep on a chair in her guest room.

"Steve?" she asked, and he jumped.

"Hey, Peggy, you're back!" Steve said, and stood up, only to wobble on his feet slightly. She narrowed her eyes, and he shrunk under her gaze. His cheeks were sunken in, his eyes red and hollow, and she could've sworn he lost at least a stone, but maybe more, in her absence.

Or more precisely, in Bucky's absence.

"I did not expect to be coming home to this," she said, and he flinched.

"...yeah," he rubbed his neck. "How was the mission?"

"Never mind the mission. Gabe told me you and Bucky had an argument?"

Steve nodded hopelessly and sank back to the chair. Peggy took off her shoes and plopped down on the bed – to hell with decency.

"I think I've made a mess of things," Steve said, and leaned forward to bury his face in his hands. His voice was muffled, but it didn't obscure the despair in his voice. "I told him everything."

She stopped breathing for a moment. "How do you mean everything?"

"All of it," Steve said, still not looking up. "He said he wouldn't talk to me again if I didn't tell him why I was acting so strange and why I knew so much and all. So I told him that I came back for him, and, well. He freaked out."

Peggy let out a long breath. "That is not an unheard of reaction to time travel," she said gently.

Steve shook his head once. "Not that. Science and technology, he gets, but that I'd throw away what I had, Cap and everything... he said I shouldn't have."

She swallowed.

This whole situation was so unprecedented, she was completely out of her depth. And Bucky was still unstable, dealing with a lot, missing an arm, and not only had he changed, but so did his best friend, which probably didn’t make coping easier.

"Give him time, Steve. He has a lot going on right now. In time, he will see how much he means to you, and–"

"He knows," Steve sighed. "I told him I love him."

He finally looked up, broken and hopeless.

Peggy stood up in one fluid motion and stepped close to hug him.

"Oh, darling," she said, and he buried his face into her shirt as she petted his hair.

"I think I lost him," he sobbed, and she felt his tears through the material.

"You did the right thing," she whispered. "You're so careful not to take away his agency, and you had to tell him."

He nodded, but it was a while before he could talk again. "Please– please make sure he's okay?"

She sat down next to him, still holding his hand, and Steve wiped the tears away from his face.

"I will," she said. "But I won't try to persuade him to–"

"No!" Steve shook his head again. "No, just... if he doesn't want to see me again–" he closed his eyes, voice gone. He had to swallow twice and clear his throat before he was able to continue. "He has every right to do that. But he needs people in his life, he needs help– will you help him? Please?"

"Of course," she caressed his cheek, and he put his hand over hers. "But don't give up hope yet, Steve."

Steve nodded, but without belief, and it was a while before he was able to go back to his room to sleep.

Peggy knocked on Bucky's door but got no answer. He was inside, though, according to Gabe, so she spoke up.

"How are you, Bucky?"

Silence.

"Listen, you should eat something."

A soft grunt; she shifted her weight.

"Please?"

"Not hungry," Bucky's muffled voice answered.

"I'll still have something brought over," she said. "Peggy's orders."

He didn't reply, but she could've sworn that the silence was a little less hostile. She left him at that.

She made her report to Thompson about the suggested alternations to the SSR while feeling very out of her body. The previous night had taken a lot from her; she hadn’t had the energy to get back to the boarding home, so she just stayed at Howard’s. She had a hard time reminding herself why they kept fighting – was it even worth it, when it was leading to a future that destroyed even the strongest of men, even Steve? 

But of course it was; as long as there were people out there who had tortured Bucky, who had twisted and turned innocent little girls like Dottie into killing machines, the war wasn't over, and someone had to stop them.

She kept repeating that as a mantra, otherwise her brain would've gotten lost in a spiral of worry about what would happen to Steve and Bucky now.

Gabe reported that Bucky, at least, ate whatever was on the tray, but he refused to talk to the Howlies. Therefore Peggy absolutely didn't expect to find him knocking on her door the next evening, after most of the house had gone to sleep.

"It's good to see you," she said honestly when she opened the door.

He looked about as bad as Steve had: dark circles under his eyes, shaky eyes jumping around the room.

"Sorry," he said, standing awkwardly until Peggy pointed to the armchair. "Don't wanna bother you."

His Brooklyn drawl almost made Peggy smile on its own, even without the lost boy attitude. "You aren't. Please take a seat?"

He perched on the edge of the seat, ready to bolt at any minute, and he worried his fingers anxiously.

"Don't know who else to talk to," he admitted quietly.

"You can talk to me any time," she said, then, after a pause and a bit of consideration, added, "and Steve too."

He huffed and searched his own pockets. "Can I light one up?"

"If you give me one too."

"Sure."

He bit into a roll and offered one to her before lighting both. He became quite used to only using one hand, she noted – probably a stress-smoker. She didn't remember him being fond of it during the war.

He only spoke up again when he blew the first drag towards the ceiling.

"Time travel, huh?"

"I wish that was the wildest thing I've ever heard of," Peggy admitted.

"So do I," Bucky snorted.

Other than the not-speaking-to-Steve part, this was the most like his old self.

Strange, how she hadn't seen through his charms to reveal the kind soul inside.

"Wonder what the future is like," Bucky muttered. "I've always been curious."

"You'll find out in time," she also took a drag. She wondered where he got the pack from. Probably one of the Commandos; it wasn't much better than their old rations.

He looked at her long and hard. "You can say that I could ask Steve too."

"I wasn't going to say that," she leaned back. "You don't have to talk to him if you don't want to."

That elicited a snort out of him. "Not 'bout having to," he murmured.

She held herself back from leaning forward. "Then what is it about?"

He turned his face away while he took another drag, and she noted how his jawbones stuck out. He had lost weight too.

Stupid, _stupid_ boys.

If she wasn't fairly certain that Bucky loved Steve just as much, the situation would've been less maddening.

"That I shouldn't," Bucky finally said.

She raised an eyebrow at him, and he took the hint, and after a few more minutes, he elaborated.

"You heard what he did," he said. "And for what, me?"

"Yes."

"Look at me!" he commanded, and he sat up straighter. His shirt didn't fit him properly: it was too big, and it showed his sharp collarbones, making him look even smaller. He had a few days' worth of stubble on his chin, and, of course, the left arm of his jacket was tucked in, making his silhouette a lopsided, uneven one. "I'm not worth _anything_ ," he spat.

"That isn't true," she argued, unconsciously raising her voice to match his. "You are more than your scars and your past!"

"I am _nothing,_ " Bucky barked, dark fire in his eyes. "Half the time I don't remember my smallest sister's name, and this stupid punk wants to put his life on hold for me? Wants to give up what he finally achieved? For _this_?"

He gestured at himself with the burning cigarette with so much disgust that tears gathered in Peggy's eyes, and she couldn't hold herself back any more.

"He loves you," she said.

It didn't faze him. "Steve has a big heart," he said off-handedly. "He loves everybody. America, as a whole, for starters–"

She couldn't take the infuriating tone anymore. "Stop!" She barked out. "Just stop. He'll never be Cap again, he told me–"

He cut her off with an angry snort. "I don't _want_ him to be Cap again!" He hissed.

She recoiled. "What? But..."

"I've spent all my life worrying about Steve," he said, and this time his voice was dark, his face screwed up – all nonchalance and jubilance gone. "When I was drafted I went to war hoping that I'd win the war so he doesn't have to fight at all. And then he _showed up_ , changed, with a target the size of Manhattan painted on his chest."

He threw the butt of his cigarette onto the floor and crushed it with his boot. His expression screamed what his words didn't when he looked at Peggy – "You helped with that."

She leaned back as far as the backrest allowed.

"I didn't have to worry about Steve dying of pneumonia every winter; but I had to worry about him dying every single day, out on the field – and he did. Not a month after I was gone, he did die."

It wouldn’t have hurt as much if his accusations rang less true.

"He came back," she whispered. "For you."

"And look what that cost him!" Barnes was up in her face all of a sudden. "Look how that changed him!"

"Losing you changed him!" She fired back through her tears. "Like losing a loved one changes everybody!"

This time it was him who recoiled.

"You can deny all you want, but drawing away from him will not help," she went on, gentler. She saw the hurt in his eyes; the guilt, the blame. "If you don't love him, tell him so. But if you do... he went through hell to get you back. It would be a horrible loss to not honor his sacrifice."

Gone was the mouthy, cocky man she first met after Azzano. Instead, the lost boy stood in front of her, his face like so many others' she had seen on the battlefield.

"Don't love him," he whispered incredulously. "I've loved him since I first laid eyes on him."

She reached out to him slowly, and he let her squeeze his arm. "Then accept that he loves you back."

He shook his head. "I asked you to protect him, even from me."

All the fight seemed to be gone from his frame, and most of the strength too. He sank back onto himself and hugged his abdomen with his one lonely arm.

"He doesn't need protecting from you," she assured. "This is hurting him more than anything you could do to him."

He looked up and bit his lip, and his eyes were shining brightly.

"We can never be... accepted," Bucky whispered. "He'll be an outcast all his life, condemned to me..."

Peggy squeezed his arm, but before she could so much as inhale to reassure him, Bucky's head snapped up and he stared down the door. Peggy sprung up and drew her gun out: she’d heard a shuffling noise coming from outside, too.

But when she tore the door open, it was Steve who jumped back in alarm.

"I– sorry," he said, and he wiped his eyes. In vain; his nasal voice would've betrayed his tears anyway.

"It's not very gentlemanly to eavesdrop," she said.

"I didn't mean to, I came to talk to you and I..." he looked over her shoulder, to Bucky, who had also stood up. "Bucky, I'm not condemned to you, how could you think that?"

"Because I'm me, look at me," Bucky pleaded, "you deserve so much more, someone like Peggy, a nice lady, and–"

"I wouldn't have come back for you if I wanted that," Steve swayed forward, desperately wanted to step closer, but he held back. "But I want you."

"You shouldn't, I'm a mess, I'd just hold you back!"

Peggy hugged the wall and dug her nails into her palm. She could've screamed, she could've cried – but this wasn't up to her to fight.

"Have I hold you back?" Steve demanded. "When I couldn't even breathe, have you ever felt like I was a burden?"

Bucky stepped backwards and shook his head frantically. "Never, Steve, you know–"

"Then why would I feel like you're holding me back?" Steve stepped forward. "It's the exact same thing– I have your back, no matter what. I _love_ you."

That was the breaking point. For Steve, whose tears ran down his cheeks; for Bucky, who, despite shaking his head, reached his fingers out towards Steve, just an inch, but it was enough; and for Peggy, who had to press her hand against her mouth to stifle her own sharp intake of breath.

Steve caught Bucky in his arms, and Bucky buried his face in his neck, sobbing.

She quietly, very quietly tiptoed out of her own guest room, but neither men paid attention to her. When she looked back, Steve was rubbing circles on Bucky's back, and Bucky was clinging to Steve's jacked with whitened knuckles, and they were both crying. She would need to sleep somewhere else, but it was fine: a small sacrifice to see them together again.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost there!

Things settled considerably. Thompson accepted her suggestions, which brought almost as joy to her as the nice weekend she and Daniel spent together, first by having a picnic in Central Park, and then, on Sunday, by wandering around Downtown and hunting knick-knacks and trinkets in second-hand shops.

It went unsaid, but they were both preparing for their eventual married life and shared household where they would be able to display the lovely vase Daniel picked up and the teacup and pot set that Peggy scavenged. 

And when she eventually made it back to the Commandos, she found Steve and Bucky in the dining room, playing poker with the rest of the team. 

"Oh, God, you never learn," she said exasperatedly. 

"He only beat us three times out of four," Falsworth protested, and Steve grinned. 

"And I only lost the fourth because of Bucky."

"I had nothing to do with it," Bucky claimed, but his face was red and the rest laughed, and Peggy decided she didn't want to know. 

"Gentlemen," she said instead, and all of them looked up at her. "I'd like to bring my fiancé around to introduce him. How about Wednesday evening?"

It was time. 

Everybody turned to look at Steve, who in turn looked at Barnes. 

"If you'd like," Barnes offered to Peggy.

Steve's gaze read 'if you think it's a good idea'. 

"Yes," she answered both. "Thank you, and have a good night."

Daniel was just as nervous as Steve about the meeting, although he bottled it better. Peggy went over on Tuesday night to finish her mission report at his place while Daniel read up about the latest technological advancements, but her more important goal was to answer any further questions he may have had. 

He put the paper down the moment she stood up from the typewriter. 

"Wine?" she asked, and at his nod, she served them a glass each.

"If you have any tips on how to survive with Cap in one room," he said after their glasses touched.

"Don't challenge him to a dare, he can't say no," she said immediately. He raised an eyebrow. "I'm serious. But you're not coming to be tested by him. He was, and in some regard still is an important part of my life, and my friend; and you are also a very important part of my life – if not the most important one – and I'd like for the two of you to get to know each other."

She curled up to him on the couch, and he put his glass down to be able to massage her calves. 

"He is – was Captain America."

"He will insist he isn't," Peggy said. "And, as I've said, I think you can do some good to Barnes. He's just lost an arm, you see."

"Well, at least I can still be useful," he said, more bitterly than she expected.

"I didn't mean it like that," she said. "You know you are still _useful_ , but even if you couldn't walk, couldn't work at the SSR, I would still love you the same." 

He blinked at her in surprise, and she realized that she had never told him any of this, not even when it was the only thing that mattered. Seeing Steve and Barnes together made her see things she hadn't, before; and so did her talk with Barnes the other night. She exhaled and reached out to hold his hand. He, however, lifted his hand and kissed her knuckles.

"I love you, too," he said. "Sometimes, it's hard to accept..." 

"It's alright," she said, when he trailed off. "That's why I'd like for you to talk to him. You're more at peace with yourself than he is."

He flashed a wry smile at her. "It doesn't feel like that most days."

"Then maybe he could help you see things in a different light, too," she said.

To her surprise, it was neither Steve nor Bucky who asked if introducing Daniel was a good idea, but Dum Dum. 

"I don't know if I'm worried because of Cap or Sarge," he admitted the night before the dinner. 

"Daniel is very easy to get on good terms with," Peggy said. 

"Isn't it too soon?" 

"The fact that they argued is a good sign. They no longer tiptoe around each other but know what they can handle. And I know they can handle this. There haven't been other incidents, have there?" 

"...no," he admitted. "They're even more inseparable than before."

"See?" she smiled. "They won't stay behind doors all their lives, and Daniel's the least likely to say something hurtful to them."

"You've been right so far, Peggy," he acquiesced. "We trust you."

"But please be kind to Daniel," she said, when he was about to go. "He... well, he's very dear to me. Don't scare him away."

Dum Dum grinned. "No shovel talk?"

"You can try, but I meant – don't be cruel to him. I know you aren't," she added hastily, "but he has as much to worry about as the others. He's meeting Captain America, after all."

He considered this quietly, then nodded. "We'll behave." 

Daniel wore his best black suit and grey tie and knocked on the door promptly at seven. Peggy kissed him with reassurance before leading him to the dining room where the Howling Commandos, other than Bucky and Steve, were grouped up.

They all turned when they heard their footsteps and the clacking of Daniel's crutch, and Daniel swallowed. Peggy took his free hand and squeezed it. 

She hated to admit it, but she, too, felt her nerves. But it was time; her past and her future needed to come together.

"I think we overdressed," she said conspiratorially, loud enough for the whole room to hear. She matched Daniel in style with a fitted, blue dress, whereas everybody else was in a simple (but at least pressed, thank the Lord for small mercies) shirt and jacket. 

"We could never get fancy, Pegs, come on," Dum Dum rumbled, almost embarrassed, and Daniel exhaled easier next to her.

“You either leave service and still stick to those habits or never again,” Daniel said, eliciting a laugh from nearly everybody. 

Peggy beamed at him, and Daniel smiled. Then his eyes snapped to Steve, who stepped into the room at that moment, with Bucky half a step behind him.

"This is my fiancé, Agent Daniel Sousa," Peggy said.

"Agent Sousa," Steve said respectfully and offered his hand – the first to do so, but then again, everybody knew that his word mattered the most.

"Captain," Daniel said as he shook it.

"Not anymore," Steve said with a wry smile. "Steve, please."

"Only if you call me Daniel." 

"That's Dum Dum," Peggy said after Steve nodded, gesturing at the men in question. "Falsworth, Dernier, Morita, Jones. And behind Steve–" 

Daniel interrupted her as Steve shifted get out of the way.

"Sergeant Barnes?" 

Bucky instinctively took half a step back, then recognition washed over him.

"Corporal... Sousa?" he asked, and Peggy met Steve's eyes – _what_?

"You know each other?" Steve asked. 

Bucky closed his eyes and furrowed his brows. "You were... in one of the cells. In..."

"...Azzano," Falsworth finished for him, mouth agape. "I'll be damned!"

Steve eased up immediately, but Peggy's limbs went numb. "Azzano?" she echoed.

"Hey, Bucky," Steve said gently, to Barnes, but she ignored them in favor of trying to mask her hurt. 

She searched for Daniel’s eyes, but he avoided hers.

"Isn't this crazy, Peggy," Dum Dum boomed.

"You could've told us! We were worried for nothing," Morita added.

Peggy looked at them emotionlessly, and Monty sucked in a breath.

"Ah, well, I think dinner's almost ready," he said. 

The whole world was spinning as they walked towards the dining room. 

Maybe this was normal. Engaged couples didn't have to know everything about each other, after all. But she felt like she had shared the most significant details with him – and sure, she had never asked exactly what had happened to his leg, just assumed it was... _not_ related to Captain America.

"I remember your leg got... injured," Bucky told Daniel. His voice remained careful, as if he was remembering everything as he spoke. "They worked you too hard and… it couldn't heal." 

"And it won't," Daniel said softly. "But I at least can walk with this new one."

Bucky's eyes got big as a plate at that; his own lack of left arm was hard to miss despite the jacket over his shoulders. Peggy looked between them, feeling more lost than Steve, who was, as always, sticking to Bucky’s side.

"What happened to yours? If you don’t mind my asking," Daniel asked. But to everyone's surprise, Bucky shook his head.

"They captured me again," he said. "I don't remember how I lost it, just that I did."

"I'm sorry," Daniel offered.

"It's okay. Stark's making me a new one anyway," and Peggy saw how he looked at Steve at that – so at least that conflict got resolved as well, and they would let Howard to use the shield for the material. 

"You were with the 107th?" Steve asked Daniel after he was able to tear his eyes away from Bucky.

"Fast on the uptake as always," Dum Dum murmured, and Steve turned bright red but didn't make excuses.

"Yeah, and I owe you thanks, and my life," Daniel said. "I never got to say it. I think I was unconscious for most of the way back to camp; wound got infected, then I was shipped home without my leg."

Peggy hadn’t even considered that aspect. She remembered vividly how Steve changed when he learned that it was the 107th performing for; how determined he was to save the unit. To think that he saved her fiancé as well...

All for Bucky.

Peggy never would have imagined that she could thank Bucky for her own fiancé’s life as well, and she desperately wanted a drink now. 

Steve waved, his old embarrassment back. "I did what I had– what I thought was best. Doesn't always turn out well, but that time, it did." 

"It did," Peggy agreed. 

She decided to hell with decency and got to the drink’s cupboard to serve herself a glass. Upon asking, the rest of the company wanted some, and she served some fine whiskey to keep herself busy.

"A broken clock is right twice a day," Bucky told Steve, and Steve gaped at him.

"I saved your life and thousands of others, _and_ got us valuable intel," he said indignantly. In a tone that Peggy hadn't heard from him before. And Barnes just... raised an eyebrow.

"You wore blue tights and told everybody you had punched Hitler about two hundred times before, therefore they should trust you."

“That’s true,” Dum Dum agreed with a toothy grin.

"You told me to keep the uniform," Steve fired back, and this time, it was Bucky's turn to blush.

"I can't believe they let you," he said defensively. "I can't believe they didn't court martial you. So. Broken clock."

Steve looked at the rest of them, as if to say, 'see what I have to put up with?', but the Commandos were all grinning. 

"I'm with Sarge on that," Gabe said. "That was just as crazy as the rest of your ideas, which is a very good thing for us bozos."

"Aye, aye," they agreed.

Peggy's mind wandered during dinner. The Howlies and Daniel got on well; she needn't have worried. Which she would've known, had he told her. 

She answered direct questions without much feeling and kept back from the banter; the only one more reserved than her seemed to be Bucky, who retreated to Steve's figurative shadow, as always when he was feeling unwell. 

The Howlies, bless them, did their best to override the awkwardness that she couldn't overcome despite being a really good spy. They teased Steve to show Daniel that he was not above them in any way, shape or form but kept the conversation away from war stories that would’ve needed Daniel to join with his own. She would’ve admired their rare moment of tact any other time.

Why hadn’t he told her?

If not earlier, then at least now, when he knew he would meet Steve.

After they ate, they retreated to the living area to have a drink and a smoke, and at least part of Peggy’s intention seemed to be working. Daniel and Bucky got seated next to one another, and albeit in short sentences, exchanged what appeared to be more than meaningless pleasantries.

There was that if nothing else. Peggy searched her heart and found that she wanted the best for Bucky, and not just for Steve’s sake or because (and she had to pour herself some more whiskey) he was inadvertently responsible for Daniel being alive, but because he deserved it. 

Steve kept looking at her funnily, though, and she shook herself. Right. No point in letting her domestic issues trouble the rest of the company any more. 

When Bucky’s had enough and declared he’d retreat for the night, after agreeing with Daniel to talk again, Peggy too seized the opportunity and offered to show Daniel around. 

"Peggy," he began, when they got a few corridors away from the merry company now desperately trying to keep Steve from cheating in another round of card games.

"Yes?" she asked. 

"I'm sorry, I should've... told you," Daniel said quietly.

"Why didn't you?"

He looked back to where they came from and took a deep breath.

"Because it's unfair," he said, still not meeting her eyes. "I know how you feel – felt – about him, and to tell you that _he_ saved my life..."

"He saved the lives of many," she said, equally quietly. 

"One more thing to be grateful for to him," Daniel said, and finally looked at her with devastated eyes. "And I can't blame you, he is something else. I get all the stories now– to be honest, I don't remember him from the camp at all, I was out of it on the last few days. I didn't even think any of the division was going to recognize me." 

She heard how he still looked at Steve as one would at a perfect hero, not a good man.

"The stories don't tell half of the truth. Steve has a heart of gold but he's the most stubborn and impulsive person I know, Daniel. He's not flawless."

"I know that," he said, without conviction. 

"I wish you would've told me," she said, deciding to be honest about how she felt. 

He closed his eyes for a moment. "It's hard enough to compete with him as is."

"You aren't competing," she said firmly. "My heart and my mind both chose you, and his heart is with someone else too."

"Who–" he asked, caught off guard, then glanced down the corridor again. "Barnes?" he mouthed.

She swallowed. What was she to say to that? She didn't know how... _open_ Daniel was to that sort of thing, and Steve would burn down the city if someone tried to mess with them. 

She didn’t feel like it was her right to share, and she hesitated long enough for Daniel to see that, too.

"It's none of my business," Daniel shook his head. "But I... yeah, that makes sense..." 

"They share a certain kind of bond," Peggy offered. "One that not many are privy to."

Daniel looked at her. "I’ll keep it private," he promised. "And I'm sorry I didn't tell you before."

She bit her lip, then sighed. The sting of mild betrayal would fade with time; it was not something that she’d let compromise what they had. She remembered what it was like to have insecurities control her common sense, after all. 

"It's alright. But don't do it again." 

She stepped close to kiss him, and his free arm sneaked around her waist. "Never," he promised, and it was good enough for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So initially I started writing this story just to have a scene of Bucky meeting with Daniel and realizing they were POWs together - TWS gave me the idea where Peggy said that Cap saved her later husband, and I always read Daniel's cagey-ness in the show about his service as a proof of this. Hope you like it!
> 
> Thank you for sticking with this fic despite my messy update schedule <3 <3 <3 It means a lot to see your comments!


	12. Chapter 12

On Monday morning, Peggy barely made it out of the elevator before Jacobi rushed to her side.

"Thompson wants you in the office," he said in a hushed voice.

She found Thompson throwing papers into a basket with childish exaggeration.

"Good morning," she said.

"I wish," he said, tearing the next page in his hand into half.

"What happened?"

"Senator Cooper shut us down," Thompson said.

" _What_?" Because seriously, _what?_

Thompson shrugged, then stopped to sigh theatrically. "His empty threats weren't so empty after all. But your precious captain is safe at least."

"He shot down the whole SSR? Can he even do that?"

Peggy was, somewhere deep down, impressed. Not only by how far men would go when their egos were hurt, but also by the fact that the Senator seemed to do something other than bluff.

"He did," Jack said. "I'm announcing it at noon. We have two days to destroy everything – paperwork, equipment, what have you – and that's it."

"The SSR is an important part of the counterintelligence world," she said, more indignantly than she wanted. "He can't just throw everything out that we've collected over the years."

"He can and he does," Jack said angrily. "Unless you can persuade that jerk to take up the fucking shield again, we're done!"

Once upon a time she would've considered that this was only a ploy from Jack to get what he wanted. But she learned to read him by now; there was genuine anger and despair in his every move. But she still raised an eyebrow at his language; so far from the man who once thought she couldn’t keep up with them.

"I can do better than that," she said. "Don't destroy anything important," then she turned on her heel and stormed out of Jack's office.

Steve was not going to take the shield up again, and not only because the metal was needed for Bucky's arm. Forcing his hand like this was not on the table.

Steve was done, but he believed in Peggy. More importantly, Peggy believed in Peggy; Cooper could have his revenge on the SSR, but he couldn't destroy the work they've done.

"This is Agent Carter," she spoke into the phone when the line went through. "I'd like to discuss a few ideas about the future of spyware."

She was in D.C. by that evening, having left the office in Daniel's hand and having made him (and Jack, and every other reliable agent) swear that they would evacuate their intel to Howard’s spare house until her return. By the next morning, she was meeting just about every prominent man she could arrange to be met with, mostly with the help of Philips and Howard. They were the bait that enticed the big fish, and she was going to have to make them bite.

Whether in cafés or at the back of a suddenly shared taxi, a governmental office or a hotel lobby, she laid out her plan using every strategy in the book she knew.

"The SSR made the serum that created Captain America," she said, internally apologizing to Steve. "Captain America helped raise morale and was responsible for winning the war, but now the SSR is being shut down with all our work getting thrown away."

"The world is full of threats we don't yet understand," she said. "But we have years' worth of research and the people who can make the newest discoveries, but we are being asked to destroy it all."

"The Russians are using our limitations against us," she said to the more open minded. "They use female agents because they know women will go unnoticed. So far the SSR's been the only organization to be able to fight fire with fire, but now all of it will be gone."

"Without the SSR, a huge pillar of the fight against Russia will also be gone," she said. "But we can use that to our advantage – let the Russians think they've won this round. Let them think the SSR is of the past. Let us reinvent it, more covertly, in a way that fits this new type of war."

"Even Captain America's retirement is something we could use," she said once the Senators and Admirals and Lord knows who else was rapt with attention. "He's not out in the front lines anymore; that Cap was of a different era. This new era is more about stealth, about gathering intelligence and striking before the enemy can strike."

"I have the full support of Captain America, Howard Stark and Colonel Philips," she concluded. "I've been at the frontlines of this new war and know what it takes to win it. Give me our old SSR intel, and a building somewhere remote, and I will transform the agency into what can stop the red peril. Put me at the helm; yes, just a woman – a woman that nobody will suspect, that everybody will underestimate. Fund us, and we will prevent the new killing gas to spread in the cities – yes, we did that last time. Support us, and there will be no more murderous children killing soldiers – yes, we were there too. Help us, and we will help the nation just as much as any army could."

By the end of the week, she was on the way back to New York; exhausted and sore, but with the abandoned Camp Leigh base promised to her, a new agency in the process of being set up, and, in one word, victorious.

"What are you going to call it?" Bucky asked, when she explained everything to the Commandos after sleeping for about 14 hours straight in a spare bedroom.

"I haven't the faintest," she admitted, then turned to her fiancé. "Daniel, how would you feel about being my second in command?"

Daniel didn't even choke on the coffee he was drinking, just swallowed carefully and put the mug down.

"I'd be honored," he said.

"How about 'Down With Hydra'?" Dum Dum asked.

"'Science Against Evils'?" Morita contributed.

"It's a serious organization, not a club for six year olds," Monty said. "'Division of the Best Scientists and Agents'?"

Steve remained suspiciously quiet and expressionless.

"Steve?" Peggy asked. "I'm sure an artist like you would have some very creative ideas."

"I have no ideas whatsoever," Steve lied. "But I'm sure you'll come up with the perfect solution."

"Should we get married before the new SSR gets set up?" Daniel asked her at night, then elaborated when she prompted. "It could forego a lot of questions and confusion about whether or not you'll keep working after. And... we could find a place together, maybe even closer to Jersey."

"You? You'd be willing to move to New Jersey for our workplace?" Peggy asked.

"I'd be easier for us," he said. "And you'd do the same, wouldn't you?"

"Of course," she said. "I already moved to America."

"Not for me," Daniel grinned.

"No," she agreed. "But you being here helped me decide to stay."

"See," he said and kissed her.

"Okay," Peggy said. "Let's get married."

Filling out the application form for the license was easy enough; waiting for approval, much less so. In the meantime, she took a trip out to Jersey to see the state of the base and make notes on what needed to be done and how best to go begin the work.

"I'm thinking underground," she told Daniel – she would also have loved to have told Steve, but he clammed up and remained annoyingly unhelpful when it came to the future. "It's much easier to protect an underground facility from outside influence."

"And to hide any suspicious activity," Daniel agreed. "Does the camp have such a place?"

"No, but we can build one ourselves, or at the very least, expand something that already exists. I'm even thinking tunnels, to have the various larger locations interconnected, like Churchill's under Downing Street..."

"Sounds wonderful, Director Carter," he said, and she couldn't help the proud little smile off of her face.

Well, she only had to figure out what she would be the director of. The name needed to be able to be shortened in a way that wouldn't raise suspicion, but it also needed to cover what they actually did to make bureaucratic matters easier.

Many suggested a variant on ‘espionage’, but there was no way that would happen. Who would put espionage in their agency name? Intelligence, if it must, but never espionage.

The answer to her dilemma came from the most unexpected place.

Howard came around one day with a heavy-looking bag, and when she wandered in after him, it turned out to have been Bucky's new arm.

The installation was horrifying. She had thought she had seen... if not everything, but certainly most things, and certainly more than the average person. But then Bucky was screaming as the new prosthetic was being screwed into place, no matter how many reassurances Steve was muttering at his side, or how careful Howard was trying to be.

He blacked out in the end, still holding onto Steve's hands with all his might, face contorted up from the trauma.

"Doesn’t anything help?" Peggy asked desperately when Howard stepped back, himself sweating a bucket, but the new metal arm firmly installed to Bucky's shoulder.

"Nothing works on us," Steve murmured hoarsely and pushed a strand of hair out of Bucky's shiny forehead. "Nothing that's been invented yet."

"You'll have to tell me more about time travel," Howard said, trying and failing to lighten the mood. "Later."

Steve lifted the still unconscious Bucky into his arms and straightened. "Later," he agreed. "I'll let you know when he wakes up."

She knew that Bucky's screams of agony and Steve's powerless suffering would haunt her to her death.

But then Barnes, just as usual, proved that he could do the unbelievable: the next day he was up and moving, testing his new arm as if nothing had happened. Nothing except the dark shadows around his eyes, the deep lines on his face, and the way he jerked at the smallest of unfamiliar sounds. He kept close to Steve, too, though he tried to project an aura of confidence with fake, wide smiles and a brash attitude.

That, too, was awfully familiar. Very similar to the Barnes after Azzano, when Peggy got significantly disappointed that Steve's famed best friend was just like every other man she'd met before.

Now she realized it all was nothing but a mask, and guilt pooled in her gut – so she tried to focus on the now and how it was a good thing that Bucky, despite the pain, was in his own mind enough to remember the projecting.

If Steve shared any of her thoughts, he showed none; though he hovered by Bucky's side and was ready to bite anyone's head off who walked too loudly.

Howard wanted to do tests, and Steve and Peggy were allowed to watch by Bucky.

"See? I'm fine," he kept saying as he caught the rubber ball that Howard was throwing at him. "And the arm works like a dream."

"But does it hurt?" Steve asked. "Because it's not supposed to hurt."

"It's fine," Bucky said and rolled his eyes, but Steve's brows furrowed even deeper.

"You remember how I was always 'fine' during the winter, when I couldn't breathe, and during the summer, when my asthma acted up?" he asked, and Bucky swallowed. "Yeah. But in the future, I learned that admitting that something hurts isn't a sign of weakness. It's encouraged to show how we feel. And not only was I better when I admitted that something was wrong, but so were the people around me because they didn't have to keep guessing."

A beat of pause settled to their small group, and Peggy did her best to make it seem like she was doing something very important with her wristwatch instead of staring at the men in front of her.

"Every time you casually mention the future my brain gets on fire," Howard said. "I'm just saying."

Bucky didn't look at Steve for a while, then he held his left wrist with his right.

"It's sore," he said in a low voice, and just like that, the cocky mask was gone. "But it's been so much worse."

"No reason for it not to get so much better," Steve said, and hugged Bucky close. And this time, Peggy was staring, because while Bucky froze at first, then he melted into the embrace.

"Yeah, um, I'll work on that," Howard said. He moved to grab his pen but miscalculated; the pen slipped through his fingers, and as he scrambled to catch it he instead managed to spiral it right towards Steve.

Before it hit him, however, Bucky's metal arm shot out and shielded Steve.

"Oh, wow, I'm so sorry–"

"Is your arm–" Steve interrupted Howard and took Bucky's hand into his own.

"It's fine, didn't even sting," Bucky said, and then he grinned. "I didn't even think about doing that, I just did!"

"Well, you always protected me," Steve said, and Peggy would need to have a word with him, later, because if he was going to keep on looking at Bucky like that their little secret wasn't going to stay a secret much longer.

Her mind, however, kept replaying the movement, and what Steve said – that Bucky was always there to protect him. Just as Steve was always there to protect those in need, not only as Cap but even before and after that, and Cap would always be there in spirit if nothing else.

They still needed someone to shield them, and maybe that was what the successor of the SSR should mirror in its name.

An update for Angie was long overdue, so Peggy sat down at her friend’s diner right before Angie’s shift was over. Due to Bucky’s arm and the trouble with the SSR, they haven’t had time to properly catch up, so now Peggy recounted most things to the best of her ability, including the fact that she got a ‘promotion’ and was going to be a director of a new agency.

“Oh, English, congratulations!” Angie said, grasping her hand. “You never do anything by halves, do you?”

“No,” Peggy said, and allowed herself a full smile. “But I’m also realizing that things get done much easier if I have people around I can rely on.”

“Well, a certain _somebody_ must agree with that,” Angie said, wiggling her eyebrows. Peggy rolled her eyes.

“I don’t know if Steve will decide to join, but Daniel agreed to be my Commander.”

Angie’s eyes widened. “Won’t that be a little… weird?”

“Maybe, but I think we can make it work,” Peggy said, omitting to mention that she was bossing around Daniel as it was already. “Speaking of. I know your dream is to be an actress, but until that goes through, how attached are you to this diner?”

Angie looked at her with clear disbelief. “Are you kidding, English? I only work here because I couldn’t find anything better and I don't want to starve.”

Peggy nodded. She’d been considering this for a while and was hoping for a similar answer. “Well then. Would you like to work as a secretary instead?”

“Whose secretary?”

“Mine,” Peggy said, feeling smug at Angie’s new wave of shock, then she sobered. “It could be dangerous. I had a roommate, before I moved into the Griffith, who got shot because she was mistaken for me. But you’ve always given me good advice on whatever subject, and I do need people I can rely on, so I thought it was only fair to offer the position to you and leave it to your discretion.”

Angie pondered for a moment. “That’s why you were so reluctant to move in next door,” she said finally.

This is why Peggy wanted Angie; she was sharp where it counted, and observant in a way that she had to be to survive. She reminded her of herself.

“Yes.”

“Okay,” Angie said. “When do I start?”

Peggy grinned and held her hand out for Angie to shook. “It’ll be a while; first there are renovations – we’re moving to Jersey, and I’ll look into accommodation for you closer if you’re interested…”

“We can move in together!” Angie offered enthusiastically, and Peggy loathed to dampen her spirits, but she had to.

“Well. Daniel and I are hoping for some privacy after all these months full of roommates and shell-shocked veterans everywhere.”

“Oh?” Angie asked in a high voice. “Like… move in how?”

Peggy didn’t understand. “It would be strange to have separate places as a married couple, don’t you think?”

“Married?” Peggy squeaked. “You’re getting married!”

Peggy mentally flipped back through their previous conversations; she could’ve sworn that Angie was aware of their engagement.

“Well, yes–”

“I mean in the near future?”

“Hopefully. As soon as we get the papers, and hopefully before the new office opens.”

“Wonderful!” Angie lunged over the table to squeeze the life out of Peggy, ignoring the annoyed huffs of the patrons around them who overheard her reaction. “Oh English, I’m so happy for you!”

“Thank you,” Peggy patted her arm. “And I hate to ask so much of you–“

“Do you want me to plan the reception? Help you get your dress?”

None of those had even crossed Peggy’s mind. “Be my maid of honour?”

“Gladly!” Angie agreed with a smile wider than Peggy’s ever seen on her, and she knew that she made the right choice with both of her requests.

It wasn't long before Peggy was routing the streets with Daniel to look for a place of their own. They could've enlisted the help of realtors, but as they were still waiting for not only their marriage license, but also an official workplace certificate in order to get a loan, they decided to just wing it and do a few rounds on their own.

To their surprise, Steve and Bucky joined them as well.

Whatever had happened between them had changed both for the better. Peggy caught glimpses of their smiles – small and rare, but present. Maybe it was their decision to share a future, or that Bucky got his arm back, or that Steve gave up on Cap with a finality; or maybe it was all of it, but they were able to go outside together and enjoy the sunlight on their faces.

"Brooklyn," Bucky said, when Daniel asked what they had in mind.

"It's a shame that it's so far from Lehigh, otherwise I could imagine us in Brooklyn as well," Daniel mused.

"Lehigh?"

"It's where the new gig will take place," Daniel told him.

Bucky stared for a few moments, then shook himself. "I don't remember much, but I don't wanna go back there."

"We won't," Steve said. "You were made a Sergeant there."

"Ugh," Bucky said. "Brooklyn, please."

"Agreed," Steve nodded, and when their eyes met, the most lovelorn expression appeared on their faces.

Daniel also met Peggy's eyes with a slight raise of his eyebrow, as if to say, 'These youngsters in love, eh?'

Peggy nodded. "You could show us where you've grown up around," she offered.

"Not yet," Bucky said. "My family doesn't... they don't... not yet."

"They will when we're ready," Steve assured him.

"But we were thinking Carroll Garden if we can afford it."

"We can," Steve said. "I had a friend named Carol, she'll love that we stayed there. She Had a weird cat, too."

"Maybe we could get a cat," Bucky said. "For real, not just a stray who hangs around sometimes. Or a dog."

"I'd love that," Steve said with the conviction of someone who would love a to have a dragon if Bucky expressed any desire in keeping that. But as Peggy had seen him look up breeds already, having a dog would not be a great sacrifice for Steve.

They spent a long afternoon pointing at brownstones and balconies, stating their opinions – big windows, but not facing the main street to be defensible; a bathroom with a toilet and warm water; good neighbors.

"Two rooms," Steve said firmly. "We can afford it, and I plan on hoarding stuff – records, books, dogs."

Bucky nodded along. "Fine, fine. How about you?" he asked Daniel and Peggy.

"More is useful, but not necessary until we have kids," Daniel answered.

"Oh?" Bucky blinked in surprise. "Are you..."

"Oh!" Peggy said. "With all these new things I completely forgot to mention! We applied for a marriage license, so we'll get married when we get it!"

"Congratulations!" Steve said and hugged her firmly.

She sighed in relief. She had loved and mourned him, yes, and thought to have moved on, but a part of her would have always carried just the slightest whisper of 'what if'. But now that that 'what if' came to be, yet nothing came of it, she was able to fully let Steve go and wholeheartedly be in the present. And be with someone else.

This was the moment she truly lost a late love but gained a new friend.

Steve then shook Daniel's hand, and Bucky kissed Peggy's.

"Take care of each other," he said.

"This isn't the wedding," she said. "But thank you. You too," she whispered.

Bucky blushed, but the smile on his lips made Peggy lighter, too.

"I've been meaning to ask, Steve," Daniel said. "Peggy and I owe so you much, and I really don't have anybody else who'd... anyway, would you be my best man?"

Steve gaped, honest to God _gaped_ like a fish, so much so that Bucky had to elbow him. Peggy felt that – she had had no idea that Daniel was going to ask him.

"I, yes, um, absolutely! It'd be an honor!" he stammered, like when she first met him.

"YWe want you there, Bucky, of course," Daniel said, making Bucky all shy and sentimental too. "Whenever it'll be."

"We're free whenever," Bucky said. "Right, Steve?"

"Yeah," Steve said, and the rest of the day passed in the happiest of blurs she could have ever imagined.

"I'd like to invite you to work for me," Peggy said on one of her last nights at Howard's place. Although they hadn't committed to a place yet, she wanted sleep at Lehigh and supervise the construction from up close.

"Do you need more builders?" Monty asked.

"If so, don't ask us, we're better at blowing it up," Morita added.

"No, I want you to work for SHIELD," she said patiently, and from the way Steve's eyebrows rose, she knew she had hit jackpot with the name.

"For the what now?"

"Strategic Homeland Intelligence, Enforcement and Logistics Division," she said.

"Intelligence?" Steve asked back.

"...maybe intervention," she allowed. "I'm still working on it. It's the new SSR, but better – better technology, more covert, more ahead of the curve. I've already persuaded Howard to give some of his ideas to us, and I think I could find some work there for you lot as well, if you've had quite enough of roaming the European countryside like wild foxes."

"Wolves, if anything," Bucky intervened. "Howling and all."

"We're not exactly fit for office, Peggy," Dum Dum said apologetically. "Foxes is quite right, like in a henhouse."

"Oh, I don't want to bring you in from the cold," she said. "But if I get to decide what missions we take on, which I quite handily do, then first on the agenda is finishing off HYDRA once and for all."

"No Operation Paperclip," Steve said tensely. “Especially not with Zola.”

Bucky shuddered, and Peggy nodded.

“He won’t get to walk free if I have a say in the matter, and I’ll make sure I do. And no remaining cells all around the world either. And you, too, can certainly help with that: with Steve's intel we can smoke them out one final time."

Bucky looked at her with wide eyes; Steve, with a curious tilt of his head.

The rest of the Commandos looked at each other, then at Steve.

"I won't be going," Steve said.

Bucky snorted. "Of course you will."

"I won't," Steve repeated steadily, all his focus now on Bucky. "I've lost you enough. I've fought enough. I want HYDRA gone just as much as anyone, believe me, but I'm not gonna lose the one thing I care about the most just to have my revenge."

That stunned Bucky speechless, if only for a moment. "But you... you could never not fight, Steve."

"Do _you_ want to go back to Europe and chase Nazis?" Steve asked, and although his face remained impassive, Bucky's metal fingers involuntarily twitched.

"I would if you did."

"I know, but you don't want to, and nor do I," Steve said. "We can help with tactical advice, here, occasionally, if the Director will have us," he now turned to Peggy. "But we don't ever have to be on the frontlines again."

"If you can manage to follow at least the majority of my orders," Peggy said.

"I can," Steve assured wryly.

Bucky swallowed, mulling everything over.

"Well, then, I'd rather shoot enemies than type away in an office," Dum Dum said. The Commandos nodded and 'aye'-d in agreement.

Steve looked at Bucky. "So, what'll it be? Brooklyn or Europe?"

"You know the answer," Bucky said with a sullen expression. "You lead, I follow."

"Brooklyn, then," Steve said with finality.

"Good. Then I suppose there's not much else to it," Peggy said. "Gentlemen, welcome to SHIELD."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all, folks!  
> This is by far not how I envisioned executing this story. I started it years ago, then picked it up much later, and finished it in a third burst. I was unsettled/depressed during most of it and therefore I don't think I did much justice to my original idea, which is also why it took me so long to edit the individual chapters and upload them.  
> I wanted to include a lot more, for instance, the Jarvises who are both a joy, but moving so many characters was already really hard for me. Feel free to imagine them on a holiday or something :)  
> Still I hope you liked it, and thank you for sticking with me until the end!


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